LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

Mr.    H.    H.    Kil  iani 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


Ruins  of  BaaQ"bec 


JEDitton 


THE  WORKS 


Of 


BAYARD  TAYLOR 


VOLUME   IV 


THE    LANDS  OF   THE   SARACEN 
JOHN    GODFREY'S    FORTUNES 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NK\V  YORK  LONDON 

27  \\KV1  TWENTY-THIRD  STRF.KT       24  BEDFORD  STREET,  STRAND 

(The    tumhcrbotkrt   pttss 


THE 

LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

OR 

PICTURES   OF   PALESTINE,  ASIA   MINOR 
SICILY,   AND   SPAIN 


BAYARD    TAYLOR 


AUTHOR'S  REVISED  EDITION 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 

G.  P.  TUTNAM, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  South  cm 
District  of  New  York. 


COPYRIGHT, 

MAKIE  TAYLOR, 

1863. 


TO 


WASHINGTON    IRVING 

THIS  book — the  chronicle  of  my  travels  through  lands  once  occupied  by  the 
Saracens — naturally  dedicates  itself  to  you,  who,  more  than  any  other  American 
author,  have  revived  the  traditions,  restored  the  history,  and  illustrated  the 
character  of  that  brilliant  and  heroic  people.  Your  cordial  encouragement  con- 
firmed me  in  my  design  of  visiting  the  East,  and  making  myself  familiar  with 
Oriental  life  ;  and  though  I  bring  you  'now  but  imperfect  returns,  I  can  at  least 
unite  with  you  in  admiration  of  a  field  so  rich  in  romantic  interest,  and  indulge 
the  hope  that  T  may  one  day  pluck  from  it  fruit  instead  of  blossoms.  In  Spain, 
I  came  upon  your  track,  and  I  should  hesitate  to  exhibit  my  own  gleanings  where 
you  have  harvested,  were  it  not  for  the  belief  that  the  rapid  sketches  I  have  given 
will  but  enhance,  by  the  contrast,  the  charm  of  your  finished  picture. 

BAYARD   TAYLOR. 


P  R  E  I  A  C  E . 


volume  comprises  the  second  portion  of  a 
series  if  travels,  of  which  the  "  JOURNEY  TO  CENTRAL 
AFRICA./'  already  published,  is  the  first  part.  I  left 
home,  intending  to  spend  a  winter  in  Africa,  and  to 
return  during  the  following  summer ;  but  circumstan- 
ces afterwards  occurred,  which  prolonged  my  wan- 
derings to  nearly  two  years  and  a  half,  and  led  me  to 
visit  many  remote  and  unexplored  portions  of  the  globe. 
To  describe  this  journey  in  a  single  work,  would 
embrace  too  many  incongruous  elements,  to  say  nothing 
of  its  great  length,  and  as  it  falls  naturally  into  three 
parts,  or  episodes,  of  very  distinct  character,  I  have 
judged  it  best  to  group  my  experiences  under  three 
separate  heads,  merely  indicating  the  links  which 
connect  them.  This  work  includes  my  travels  in  Pales- 
tine, Syria,  Asia  Minor,  Sicily  and  Spain,  and  will  be 
followed  by  a  third  and  concluding  volume,  containing 
my  adventures  in  India,  China,  the  Loo-Choo  Islands, 


VI  PREFACE . 

and  Japan.  Although  many  of  the  letters,  contained  in 
this  volume,  describe  beaten  tracks  of  travel,  I  have 
always  given  my  own  individual  impressions,  and  may 
claim  for  them  the  merit  of  entire  sincerity.  The 
journey  from  Aleppo  to  Constantinople,  through  the 
heart  of  Asia  Minor,  illustrates  regions  rarely  traversed 
by  tourists,  and  wid,  no  doubt,  be  new  to  most  of  my 
readers.  My  aim,  throughout  the  work,  has  been  to 
give  correct  pictures  of  Oriental  life  and  scenery,  leav- 
ing antiquarian  research  and  speculation  to  abler  hands. 
The  scholar,  or  the  man  of  science,  may  complain  with 
reason  that  I  have  neglected  valuable  opportunities  for 
adding  something  to  the  stock  of  human  knowledge  : 
but  if  a  few  of  the  many  thousands,  who  can  only  travel 
by  their  firesides,  should  find  my  pages  answer  the  pur- 
pose of  a  srries  of  cosmoramic  views — should  in  them 
behold  with  a  clearer  inward  eye  the  hills  of  Pales- 
tine, the  sun-gilded  minarets  of  Damascus,  or  the  lonely 
pine-forests  of  Phrygia — should  feel,  by  turns,  some- 
thing of  the  inspiration  and  the  indolence  of  the  Orient 
—I  shall  have  achieved  all  I  designed,  and  more  thar 
I  can  justly  hope. 

Hiw  You,  OoCofer,  1854. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

LIFE    IN    A     SYRIAN    QUARANTINE. 

Voyage  from  Alexandria  to  Beyrout — Landing  at  Quarantine— The  Gusrdlar.o— Om 
Quarters — Our  Companions — Famine  and  Feasting — The  Morning — The  Holy  Man  <>f 
Timbuctoo — Sunday  in  Quarantine — Islamism — We  are  Registered — Love  through  n 
Orating — Trumpets — The  Mystery  Explained — Delights  of  Quarantine — Orient;.!  v* 
American  Exaggeration — A  Discusaion  of  Politics — Our  Release — Beyrout — Prepara 
tlons  for  the  Pilgrimage 17 

CHAPTER    IL 

THE    COAST    OP    PALESTINE. 

rhe  Pilgrimage  Commences — The  Muleteers — The  Mules — The  Donkey— Journey  to 
Sidon — The  Foot  of  Lebanon — Pictures — The  Ruins  of  Tyre — A  Wild  Morning— The 
Tjrrian  Surges — Climbing  the  Ladder  of  Tyre— Panorama  of  the  Bay  .if  Acre — The 
Plain  of  Esdraelon — Camp  in  a  Garden — Acre — the  Shore  of  the  Bay— Haifa — Motm 
Carmel  and  its  Monastery — A  Deserted  Coast — The  Ruins  of  Csesarea — The  Scenery 
of  Palestine — We  become  Robbers— El  Haram — Wrecks— the  Harbor  and  Town  of 
Jaflfc 32 

CHAPTER   III. 

FROM    JAFFA    TO    JERUSALEM. 

The  Garden  of  Jaffa — Breakfast  at  a  Fountain — The  Plain  of  Sharon — The  Rn'ned 
Moiqne  of  Ramleh — A  Judran  Landscape—  The  Streets  Famleh — Am  I  In  Pale* 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

tine  ?— A  Heavenly  Morning — The  Land  of  Milk  and  Honey— Entering  the  Hill 
Country — The  Pilgrim's  Breakfast — The  Father  of  Lies — A  Church  of  the  Crusader; 
—The  Agriculture  of  the  Hills — The  Valley  of  Klah — Day-Dreams — The  Wilderness 
--Tb«  Approach— We  See  tie  Holy  City  .  48 

CHAPTER    17. 

CHE  DEAD  SEA  AXD  THE  RIVER  JORDAN 

3arg*laing  for  a  Guard — Departure  from  Jerusalem — The  Hill  of  Offence — Bethany— 
The  Grotto  of  Laiarus — The  Valley  of  Fire — Scenery  of  the  Wilderness — The  Hills  o 
EngatVii— The  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea — A  Bituminous  Bath — Gallop  10  the  -ordan— 
A  watch  for  Robbers — The  Jordan— Baptism— The  Plains  of  Jericho — The  Fountaic 
of  ffiUha-- The  Mount  of  Temptation — Return  to  Jerusalem  60 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE     OITT     OF     CHRIST. 

Modern  Jerusalem — The  Site  of  the  City — Mount  Zion — Mount  Moriah — The  Temple — 
The  Valley  of  Jehosaphat — The  Olives  of  Gethsemane — The  Mount  of  Olives — Moslen 
Tradition — Panorama  from  the  Summit — The  Interior  of  the  City — The  Population- 
Missions  and  Missionaries — Christianity  in  Jerusalem — Intolerance — The  Jews  of 
Jerusalem— The  Face  of  Christ— The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre— The  Holy  of 
Holies — The  Sacred  Localities — Visions  of  Christ — The  Mosque  of  Omar — The  Holj 
Man  of  Timbuctoo— Preparations  for  Departure  .  .  ...  72 

CHAPTER  VI 

THE     HILL-COON  TRY     OF     PALESTINE. 

leaving  Jerusalem — The  Tombs  of  the  Kings— El  Bireh — The  Hill-Country — Firs' 
View  of  Mount  Hermon — The  Tomb  of  Joseph — Ebal  and  Gerirlin-  The  Gardens  of 
Nablous — The  Samaritans — The  Sacred  Book — A  Scene  in  the  Synagogue — Mentoi 
and  Telemachus — Ride  to  Samaria— The  Ruins  of  Sebaste— Scriptural  Landscapes  - 
Halt  at  Genin — The  Plain  of  Esd  -aelon — Palestine  and  California-  -The  Hills  of 
Nasa  -cih — Accident — Fra  Joachim-  The  Church  of  the  Virgin — The  Shrine  of  th« 
Annunciation — The  Holy  Places  .  .88 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    COUNTRY    OF    OALILEE. 

Departure  from  Nazareth— A  Christian  Guile — Ascent  of  Mount  Tabor— WallachiM 
Hermits— The  Panorama  of  T.ib«"  -Rids  to  Tiberias— A  Hath  in  Gonesareth— Thi 


CONTENTS.  IX 

rowers  of  Galilee— The  Mount  of  Beatitude— M&gdala— Joseph's  Well— Meeting 
with  a  Turk— The  Fountain  of  the  Salt- Works— The  Upper  Valley  of  the  Jordan- 
Bummer  Scen»ry— The  Rivers  of  Lebanon— Tell  el-Kadi— An  Arcadian  Region— T)u 
PouaUlns  of  Bantu 103 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

CROSSING     THE    ANT  .'-LEBANON 

fhe  Harmless  Guard— C»sarea  Philippl— The  Valley  of  the  Druses  -The  Sides  of  Mouc- 
Hermon— An  Alarm— Threading  a  Defile— Distant  view  of  Djebel  Hanaran— Anothei 
Alana — Camp  at  Katana — We  Ride  into  Damascus ,1*5 

CHAPTER  IX. 

PICTURES    OK     DAMASCUS. 

Damascus  from  the  Anti-Lebanon — Entering  the  City— A  Diorama  of  Baiaars — An 
Oriental  Hotel — Our  Chamber— The  Bazaars — Pipes  and  Coffee — The  Rivers  of 
Damascus — Palaces  of  the  Jews — Jewish  Ladies — A  Christian  Gentleman — The  Sacred 
Localities — Damascus  Blades — The  Sword  of  Haroun  Al-Raschid — An  Arrival  Iron 
Palmyra I2o 

CHAPTER  X. 

T  H  •    VISIONS    OF    HASHEESH  . — 133 

CHAPTER    XI. 

A    DISSERTATION    ON     BATHING    AND    BODIES  . — 14V 

CHAPTER   XII. 

BAALBEC    AND    LEBANON. 

Departure  from  Damascus — The  Fountains  of  the  Pharpar — Pass  of  toe  Anti-Lebanon— 
Adventure  with  the  Druses— The  Range  of  Lebanon— The  Demon  of  Hasheesr 
departs— Impressions  of  Baalbec — The  Temple  of  the  Sun — Titanic  Masonry— The 
Ruinml  Mosque — Camp  on  Lebanon— Rascality  of  the  Guide — The  Summit  of  Lebanon 
—The  Sacred  Cedars— The  Christians  of  Lebanon — An  Afternoon  in  Eden — Rugged 
Travel— We  Reach  the  Coast- -H.Hurn  to  Beyrout  .  ...  161 

1* 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

F I  P  E  8      AND     COFFEE.  — 178 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

JOURNEY    TO    ANTIOCH    AND    ALEPPO. 

3hang«  of  Plani — Routei  to  Baghdad — Aala  Minor — We  sail  from  Beyrout — lachtii., 
on  the  Syrian  Coast — Tartus  and  Latakiyeh — The  Coasts  of  Syria— The  Bay  of  Snt, 
diah— The  Mouth  of  the  Orontes—  Landing— The  Garden  of  Syria— Ride  to  Antloch 
—The  Modern  City — The  Plains  of  the  Orontes — Remains  of  the  Greek  Empire — Th« 
Ancient  Road — The  Plain  of  Kef  tin— Approach  to  Aleppo  .  .  .  .  186 

CHAPTER  XV. 

LIFE      IN      ALEPPO. 

Jnr  Cntry  Into  Aleppo— We  are  conducted  to  a  House — Our  Unexpected  Welcome-  -Tb« 
Mystery  Explained — Aleppo--Its  Name — Its  Situation— The  Trade  of  Aleppo— Thi 
Christians — The  Revolt  of  1800— Present  Appearance  of  the  City— Visit  to  Osnmn 
Pasha — The  Citadel — View  from  the  Battlements — Society  in  Aleppo — Etiquette  and 
Costume-^Jewish  Marriage  Festivities— A  Christian  Marriage  Procession-  Ride 
around  the  Town — Nightingales — The  Aleppo  Button — A  Hospital  for  Oats — Verbal 
Pasha 196 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

THROUGH    THE    STRIAN    GATES 

In  Inauspicious  Departure — The  Ruined  Church  of  St.  8im»n— The  Plain  of  Antloch— A 
Turcoman  Encampment — Climbing  Akma  Dagh — The  Syrian  Gates — Scanderoon — An 
American  Captain — Revolt  of  the  Koorda — We  take  a  Guard — The  Field  of  Issui— 
The  Robber-Chief,  Kutchak  All— A  Deserted  Town— A  Land  of  Gardens  .  .  215 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  I)  A  \  A      AND      TARSUS. 

Fhe  Black  Gate— The  Plain  of  Cilicta— A  Koorrt  Village— Missis— Cillclan  Scenery- 
Arrival  at  Adtuia — Three  days  in  Quarantine— We  receive  Pratique — A  Lanrtscs tie-- 
TV Plain  of  Tarsus— Tin-  Ri'vci  Cydnus — A  Vision  of  Cleopatra — Tariua  and  iti 
Bnvirons—  The  ItrnvUetanlt—  Tin-  Moon  of  llamaian  .  ...  226 


CO  NT  £  NTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THK  PASS  OK  MOUNT  TAURUS. 

We  eater  UM  Taurus — Turcomans — Forest  Scenery — the  Palace  of  Pan — Khac.  Meur 
luk — Morning  among  the  Mountains — The  Gorge  of  the  Cydnus — The  Crag  of  thi 
Fortress— The  Cilickm  Gate — Deserteil  Ports— A  Sublime  Landscape— The  Gorge  of  tht 
Sihoon — The  Second  Gate — Camp  in  the  Defile — Sunrise — Journey  up  the  Sihocwi—  A 
Change  of  Scenery— A  Pastoral  Valley— K»lu  Kushla— A  Deserted  Kh;in— A  Gutst  1:. 
Ramazan— Flowers— The  Plain  of  Karamanla— Barren  Hills — The  Town  of  Eregli— 
The  Hadji  again 236 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

TUB    PLAINS     OF     KARAMANIA. 

rh'1  Plains  of  Karamania — Afternoon  Heat — A  Well — Volcanic  Phenomena — Kara- 
maiiia— A  Grand  Ruined  Khan — Moonlight  Picture — A  Landscape  of  the  Plain*— 
Mirages— A  Short  Interview — The  Village  of  Ismil — Third  Day  on  the  Plains— 
Auproacn  to  Roma 250 

CHAPTER    XX. 

SCENES      IN     K  O  N 1 A  . 

Approach  to  Knnla — Tomb  of  Hazret  Mevlana — Lodgings  in  a  Khan — An  American 
Luxury — A  Night-Scene  in  Ramazan — Prayers  in  the  Mosque — Remains  of  tht 
Ancient  City — View  from  the  Mosque — The  Interior — A  Leaning  Minaret — The 
Diverting  History  of  the  Muleteers 256 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

TUB     HEART    OP    ASIA     MINOR. 

Venery  of  the  Hills— Ladik,  the  Ancient  Laodicea— The  Plague  of  Gad-Files-  Camp  at 
Ilg-in — A  Natural  Warm  Bath — The  Gad-Flies  Again — A  Summer  Landscape — Ak 
Shelter  —The  Base  of  Sultan  Dagh— The  Fountain  of  Midas— A  Drowsy  Journey— 
The  Towm  of  Bolawadnn 265 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

THK     FORESTS    OK     PHRTOIA. 

n»«  FronHer  of  Phrytfa — Ancient  Quarries  and  Tombs— We  Enter  the  Pine  frore«t»— t 
Guard-House — Encampments  of  the  Turcomans — Pastoral  Scenery  —A  bummer  VB 


Xll  CONTEXTS 

lage — The  Valley  of  the  Tombs — Rock  Sepulchres  of  the  Phrygian  Kings — The  Titan'* 
Camp— The  Valley  of  Kumbeh — A  Land  of  Flowers — Turcoman  Uosj  itality — Th« 
Exiled  Effendis — The  Old  Turcoman — A  Glimpse  of  Aicadia — A  Landscape— Inter- 
ested Friendship— The  Valley  of  the  Pursek— Arrival  at  Kiutahym  .  .  .274 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

KI0TAHYA,    AND    THE    RUINS    Of    (E  Z  A  N  I . 

K.itrance  into  Kiutahya  -The  New  Khan — An  Unpleasant  Discovery — Kiutahya— The 
Citadel— Panorama  from  the  Walls — The  Gorge  of  the  Mountains— Camp  In  a 
Meadow — The  Valley  af  the  Rhyndacus — Chavdflr — The  Ruins  of  CEiani — The  Acro- 
polis and  Temple — The  Theatre  and  Stadium— Ride  down  the  Valley — Camp  at  Daghj- 
Kui 290 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE    HTSIAN    OLYMPUS. 

tourney  Down  the  Valley — The  Plague  of  Grasshoppers — A  Deflle — The  Town  of  Tau 
•hanln — The  Camp  of  Famine — We  leave  the  Rhyndacus — The  Base  of  Olympus- 
Primeval  Forests — The  Guard-House — Scenery  of  the  Summit — Forests  of  Beech— 
Saw-Mills — Descent  of  the  Mountain — The  View  of  Olympus — Morning — The  Land  of 
Harvest— Aineghiol— A  Showery  Ride — The  Plain  of  Brousa — The  Structure  of  Olym- 
pus— We  reach  Brousa — The  Tent  is  Furled 300 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

BROUSA    AND    THE    SEA    OP    MARMORA. 

?be  City  or  Brousa — Re-torn  to  Civilisation — Storm — The  Kalputcha  Hamraam — A  Hoi 
Bath — A  Foretaste  of  Paradise — The  Streets  ami  Bazaars  of  Brousa — The  Mosque — 
The  Tombs  of  the  Ottoman  Sultans — Disappearance  of  the  Katurgees — We  start  foi 
Moudania— The  Sea  of  Marmora — Moudania— Passport  Difficulties — A  Greek  Caique 
—Breakfast  with  the  Fishermen — A  Torrid  Voyage — The  Princes'  Islands — Prinkipo— 
Distant  View  of  Constantinople — We  enter  the  Golden  Horn  .  .  .  .312 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 

» 

THE    NIGHT    OF    PR  E  I>  E  9  T  I  N  A  TI  0  N  . 

QoMteoUuo|>le  in  Ramasan— The  Origin  of  the  Fast— Nightly  Illuminations— The  Right 
Of  Prtdestlnation— The  Golden  Horn  %t  Night— Illumination  of  the  Shore*— Th< 


CONTENTS.  Xiii 

Cannon  of  Constantinople — A  Fiery  Panorama — The-  Sultan's  Oilqne— Clo»e  of  th« 
Celebration— A  Turkish  Mob — The  Dancing  Dervishes      .        .        .        .  324 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    SOLEMNITIES    OF    BAIKAM. 

the  Apyearaa:*  of  the  New  Moon — The  Festival  of  Balram — The  Interior  of  tt« 
Seraglio— The  Pomp  of  the  Sultan's  Court— Reschid  Pasha — The  Sultan's  Dwarf- 
Arabian  Stallions — The  Imperial  Guard — Appearance  of  the  Sultan — The  Inner  Courl 
— Return  of  the  Procession — The  Sultan  on  his  Throne — The  Homage  of  the  Pashai 
-An  Oriental  Picture— Kissing  the  Scarf— The  Shekh  el-Islam— The  Descendant  of 
the  Caliphi — Balram  Commences .  332 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE    MOSQUES    OP    CONSTANTINOPLE. 

Sojourn  at  Constantinople — Semi-European  Character  of  the  City — The  Mosque — Pro- 
curing a  Firman — The  Seraglio — The  Library — The  Ancient  Throne-Room — Admit 
lance  to  St.  Sophia — Magnificence  of  the  Interior — The  Marvellous  Dome — Tht 
Mosque  of  Saltan  Achmed — The  Sulemanye — Great  Conflagrations — Political  Mean- 
ing of  the  Fires — Turkish  Progress — Decay  of  the  Ottoman  Power  .  .  .  343 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

FAREWELL    TO    THE    ORIEN  T — M  A  L  T  A  . 

Dnbarcatlon— Farewell  to  the  Orient— Leaving  Constantinople— A  Wreck— The  Dar- 
danelles— Homeric  Scenery — Smyrna  Revisited — The  Grecian  Isles — Voyage  to  Maltc 
-Detention— La  Valetta— The  Maltese— The  Climate — A  Boat  for  Sicily  .  .  355 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE    FESTIVAL    OF    ST.    AGATHA. 

Departure  from  Malta — The  Speronara — Our  Fellow-Passengers — The  First  Night  on 
Board— Sicily— Scarcity  of  Provisions — Beating  in  the  Calabrian  Channel— The 
Fourth  Morning — The  Gulf  of  Catania — A  Sicilian  Landscape — The  Anchorage — Tin 
Suspected  List— The  Streets  of  Catania— Biography  of  St.  Agatha— The  Illumination* 
—The  Procession  of  the  Veil— The  Biscari  Palace— The  Antiquities  of  OaUnis-  The 
Convent  of  St.  Nicola  ...  363 


Xv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  ERUPTION  OP  MOUNT  ETNA. 

The  Mountain  Threatens — The  Signs  Increase — We  Leave  Catania — Garden*  Among 
the  Lava— Etna  Labon — Acl  Reale — The  Groans  of  Etna— The  Eruption — Gigantic 
Tree  of  Smoke— Formation  of  the  New  Crater— We  LOM  Sight  of  the  Mountain— Arrival 
at  Messina- -Etna  is  Obscured— Departure 375 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

GIBRALTAR. 

Unwritten  Links  of  Travel — Departure  from  Southampton — The  Bay  of  Biscay — Cintrs 
—Trafalgar— Gibraltar  at  Midnight— Landing— Search  for  a  Palm-Tree— A  Brilliant 
Morning— The  Convexity  of  the  Earth— Sun- Worship— The  Rock  .  .  383 

CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

CADIZ   AND  SEVILLE. 

Voyag;  to  Cadis— Landing— The  City— Its  Street*— The  Women  of  Oadli— Embark* 
tiou  for  Seville — Scenery  of  the  Guadalquivir — Custom  House  Examination — Tin 
Guide — The  Streets  of  Seville— The  Giralda— The  Cathedral  of  Seville— The  Alcazar- 
Moorish  Architecture— Pilate's  House— Morning  View  from  the  Giralda— Old  Wine- 
Murillos— My  Last  Evening  in  Seville ...  391 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

JOCENET     IN    A    SPANISH    DILIGENCE. 

Danish  Diligence  Lines — Leaving  Seville — An  Unlucky  Start — Alcali  of  the  Bakers- 
Dinner  at  Carmona — A  Dehesa — The  Mayoral  and  his  Team — Ecija — Night  Journej 
— Cordova— The  Cathedral-Mosque — Moorish  Architecture — The  Sierra  Morena-A 
Rainy  Journey— A  Chapter  of  Accident* — Baylen — The  Fascination  of  Spain — Jier 
•  -The  Vega  of  Granada  ...  ....  403 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 

GRANADA     AND    T  It  K     ALHAMBEA. 

Mateo  Ximenem,  the  Younger— The  Cathedral  of  Granada— A  Monkish  Mlrade— Oatholk 
Shrines— Mili  tasy  Chernha — The  R»\  .:  ri,.,t>.-l— The  Tombs  of  Ferdinand  and  Is* 


CONTEXT?  XV 

belia — Chapel  of  San  Juan  de  Dios — The  Albaycin — View  ot  the  Vega — The  Generalife— 
The  Alhambra— Torra  de  la  Vela— The  Walls  uud  Towers— A  Visit  to  Old  Matco- 
Tbe  Court  of  the  Fish-pond— The  Halls  of  the  Alhambra — Character  of  the  Archittc 
lure — Hall  cf  the  Abencerrages — Hall  of  the  Two  Sisters — The  Moorish  Dynasty  is 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

.      THK    BRIDLE-ROADS    OP    ANDALUSIA. 

3ha:igt'  of  Weather— Napoleon  and  hit  Horses — Departure  from  Granada — My  Guid-. 
Jos6  Gari'iiv— His  Domestic  Troubles — The  Tragedy  of  the  Umbrella— The  Vow  against 
Aguardiente— Crossing  the  Vega — The  Sierra  Nevada — The  Baths  of  Alhama — "  Wot 
'.s  Me,  Alhama  !"— The  Valley  of  the  River  Veles—  Velez  Malaga— The  Coast  Road— 
Tlje  Fisherman  and  his  Donkey — Malaga — Summer  Scenery — The  Story  of  Don  Pedro, 
without  Fear  and  without  Care— The  Field  of  Monda— A  Lonely  Vent*  .  .427 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THK     MOUNTAINS     OP     FONDA. 

Vuni?e  Valleys — Climbing  the  Mountains — Jos6's  Hospitality — El  Burgo — The  Gate  of 
•Jie  Wind— The  Cliff  and  Cascades  of  Ronda— Th>:  Mountain  Region— Traces  of  th« 
Moors — Haunts  of  Robbers — A  Stormy  Ride — The  Inn  at  Gaucin — Bud  N«wa  -A 
Boyish  Auxiliary— Descent  from  the  Mountains — The  Frrd  of  the  Ouarl!aro--0ut 
5Vur«  Relieved— The  Cork  Woodt— Hide  from  ten  Hooue  to  Gibraltar— Partlr.p  witi 
Jose— Travelling  In  Spain— Qoncltuioo  ........  439 


THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEJN 


CHAPTER    I. 

LIFK     IN    A    SYRIAN      QUARANTINE. 

Voyage  from  Alexandria  to  Beyrout — Landing  at  Quarantine— The  Guardiano — Otu 
Quarters — Our  Companions — Famine  and  Feasting — The  Morning — The  Holy  Man  of 
Timbuctoo— Sunday  in  Quarantine — Islamism — We  are  Registered — Love  through  I 
Grating-"Trumpeta — The  Mystery  Explained — Delights  of  Quarantine — Oriental  W. 
American  Exaggeration— A  Discussion  of  Politics — Our  Release— Beyrout — Prepara- 
tion* for  the  Pilgrimage. 

"  The  mountains  look  on  Quarantine, 
And  Quarantine  looks  on  the  sea." 

QUARAKTIS*  MS. 


I*    QUARANTIRB,    BgTBOUT, 

Saturday,  April  IT,  1S58.  i 


1 

EVERYBODY  has  heard  of  Quarantine,  but  in  our  favored  coun 
try  there  are  many  untravelled  persons  who  do  not  precise!) 
know  what  it  is,  and  who  no  doubt  wonder  why  it  should  be 
such  a  bugbear  to  travellers  in  the  Orient.  I  confess  I  am 
still  somewhat  in  the  same  predicament  myself,  although 
I  have  already  been  twenty-four  hours  in  Quarantine. 
But,  as  a  peculiarity  of  the  place  is,  that  one  can  do  nothing, 
however  good  a  will  he  has,  I  propose  to  set  down  my  expe- 
riences each  day,  hoping  that  I  and  my  readers  may  obtain 


18  THl    LAMM    07    THE    SARACEN. 

some  insight  into  the  nature  of  Quarantine,  before  the  term  of 
my  probation  is  over. 

I  left  Alexandria  on  the  afternoon  of  the  14th  inst.,  in  com 
pany  with  Mr.  Carter  Harrison,  a  fellow-countryman,  who  had 
joined  me  in  Cairo,  for  the  tour  through  Palestine.  We  had  a 
head  wind  and  rongh  sea,  ;iLd  I  remained  in  a  torpid 
state  during  most  of  the  voyage.  There  was  rain  the  second 
night ;  but,  when  the  clouds  cleared  away  yesterday  morning 
we  were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  Lebanon,  whose  summits 
glittered  with  streaks  of  snow.  The  lower  slopes  of  the  moun- 
tains were  green  with  fields  and  forests,  and  Beyrout,  when 
we  ran  up  to  it,  seemed  buried  almost  ont  of  sight,  in  the  foil 
age  of  its  mulberry  groves.  The  town  is  built  along  tha 
northern  side  of  a  peninsula,  which  projects  about  two  miles 
from  the  main  line  of  the  coa.st,  forming  a  road  for  vessels.  In 
half  an  hour  after  our  arrival,  several  large  boats  came  along- 
side, and  we  were  told  to  get  our  baggage  in  order  and 
embark  for  Quarantine.  The  time  necessary  to  purify  a  tra- 
veller arriving  from  Egypt  from  suspicion  of  the  plague,  is  five 
days,  but  the  days  of  arrival  and  departure  are  counted,  so 
that  the  durance  amounts  to  but  three  full  days.  The  captain 
of  the  Osiris  mustered  the  passengers  together,  and  informed 
them  that  each  one  would  be  obliged  to  pay  six  piastres  for 
the  transportation  of  himself  and  his  baggage  Two  heavy 
lighters  are  now  drawn  up  to  the  foot  of  the  gangway,  but  aa 
soon  as  the  first  box  tumbles  into  them,  the  men  tumble  out. 
Tney  attach  the  craft  by  cables  to  two  smaller  boats,  hi 
^hich  they  sit,  to  tow  the  infected  loads.  We  are  all  sent 
down  together,  Jews,  Turks,  and  Christians — a  confused  pile 
of  men,  women,  children,  and  goods.  A  little  boat  frooa 


LANDING     AT    QTJARANTINK.  18 

the  city,  in  which  there  are  representatives  *ron  the  twc 
hotels,  hovers  around  us,  and  cards  are  thrown  to  us.  The 
zealous  agents  wish  to  supply  us  immediately  with  tables, 
beds,  and  all  other  household  appliances;  but  we  decline  their 
help  until  we  arrive  at  the  mysterious  spot.  At  last  we  float 
off — two  lighters  full  of  infected,  though  respectable,  material, 
towed  by  oarsmen  of  most  scurvy  appearance,  but  free  from 
svery  suspicion  of  taint. 

The  sea  is  still  rough,  the  sun  is  hot,  and  a  fat  Jewess 
becomes  sea-sick.  An  Italian  Jew  rails  at  the  boatmen  ahead, 
in  the  Neapolitan  patois,  for  the  distance  is  long,  the  Quaran- 
tine being  on  the  land- side  of  Beyrout.  We  see  the  rows  of 
little  yellow  houses  on  the  cliff,  and  with  great  apparent  risk 
of  being  swept  upon  the  breakers,  are  tugged  into  a  small  cove, 
where  there  is  a  landing-place.  Nobody  is  there  to  receive  us; 
the  boatmen  jump  into  the  water  and  push  the  1  ghters  against 
the  stone  stairs,  while  we  unload  our  own  baggage.  A  tin 
cup  filled  with  sea-water  is  placed  before  us,  and  we  each  drop 
six  piastres  into  it — for  money,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  is  infec- 
tious. By  this  time,  the  guardianos  have  had  notice  of  our 
arrival,  and  we  go  up  with  them  to  choose  our  habitations 
There  are  several  rows  of  one-story  houses  overlooking  the  sea, 
each  containing  two  empty  rooms,  to  be  had  for  a  hundred 
piastres;  but  a  square  two-story  dwelling  stands  apart  from 
them,  and  the  whole  of  it  may  be  had  for  thrice  that  sura 
There  are  seven  Frank  prisoners,  and  we  take  it  for  ourselves 
But  the  rooms  are  bare,  the  kitchen  empty,  and  we  learc  Un- 
important fact,  that  Quarantine  is  durance  vile,  without  even 
the  bread  and  water.  The  guardiano  says  the  agents  01  the 
hotel  are  at  the  gate,  and  we  can  order  from  them  whateve» 


SO  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

*e  want.  Certainly;  but  at  their  own  price,  for  we  are  wholly 
at  their  mercy.  However,  we  go  down  stairs,  and  the  chief 
officer,  who  accompanies  us,  gets  into  a  corner  as  we  pass,  a.id 
holds  a  stick  before  him  to  keep  us  off.  He  is  now  clean,  but 
if  his  garments  brush  against  ours,  he  is  lost.  The  people  we 
meet  in  the  grounds  step  aside  with  great  respect  to  let  us  pass, 
but  if  we  offer  them  our  hands,  no  one  would  dare  to  touch  a 
finger's  tip. 

Here  is  the  gate  :  a  double  screen  of  wire,  with  an  interval 
between,  so  that  contact  is  impossible.  There  is  a  crowd  of 
individuals  outside,  all  anxious  to  execute  commissions.  Among 
them  is  the  agent  of  the  hotel,  who  proposes  to  fill  our  bare 
rooms  with  furniture,  send  us  a  servant  and  cook,  and  charge 
us  the  same  as  if  we  lodged  with  him.  The  bargain  is  closed 
at  once,  and  he  hurries  off  to  make  the  arrangements.  It  is 
now  four  o'clock,  and  the  bracing  air  of  the  headland  gives  a 
terrible  appetite  to  those  of  us  who,  like  me,  have  been  sea- 
sick and  fasting  for  forty-eight  hours.  But  there  is  no  food 
within  the  Quarantine  except  a  patch  of  green  wheat,  and  a 
well  in  the  limestone  rock.  We  two  Americans  join  company 
with  our  room-mate,  an  Alexandrian  of  Italian  parentage,  who 
has  come  to  Beyrout  to  be  married,  and  make  the  tour  of  oui 
territory.  There  is  a  path  along  the  cliffs  overhanging  the  sea, 
with  glorious  views  of  Lebanon,  up  to  his  snowy  top,  the  pine- 
forests  at  his  base,  and  the  long  cape  whereon  the  city  lies  at 
full  length,  reposing  beside  the  waves.  The  Mahommedans 
and  Jews,  in  companies  of  ten  v'to  save  expense),  are  lodged 
in  the  smaller  dwellings,  where  they  have  already  aroused  mil 
lions  of  fleas  from  their  state  of  torpid  expectancy.  We 
-»tnrn,  and  take  a  survey  of  our  companions  in  the  pavilion  :  a 


FAMINE    AND    FEASTING.  21 

French  woman,  with  two  ugly  and  peevish  children  (one  at  the 
breast),  in  the  next  room,  and  three  French  gentlemen  in  the 
other — a  merchant,  a  young  man  with  hair  of  extraordinary 
length,  and  a  Jilateur,  or  silk-manufacturer,  middle-aged  and 
cynical.  The  first  is  a  gentleman  in  every  sense  of  the  word, 
the  latter  endurable,  but  the  young  Absalom  is  my  aversion 
I  am  subject  to  involuntary  likings  and  dislikings,  for  which  J 
can  give  no  reason,  and  though  the  man  may  be  in  every  way 
amiable,  Ms  presence  is  very  distasteful  to  me. 

We  take  a  pipe  of  consolation,  but  it  only  whets  our  appe- 
tites. We  give  up  our  promenade,  for  exercise  is  still  worse ; 
and  at  last  the  sun  goes  down,  and  yet  no  sign  of  dinner.  Our 
pavilion  becomes  a  Tower  of  Famine,  and  the  Italian  recites 
Dante.  Finally  a  strange  face  appears  at  the  door.  By  Api- 
cius  I  it  is  a  servant  from  the  hotel,  with  iron  bedsteads,  camp- 
tables,  and  some  large  chests,  which  breathe  an  odor  of  the 
Commissary  Department.  We  go  stealthily  dowu  to  the 
kitchen,  and  watch  the  unpacking.  Our  dinner  is  there,  sure 
enough,  but  alas  1  it  is  not  yet  cooked.  Patience  is  no  more 
my  companion  manages  to  filch  a  raw  onion  and  a  crust  ol 
bread,  which  we  share,  and  roll  under  our  tongues  as  a  sweet 
morsel,  and  it  gives  us  strength  for  another  hour.  The  Greek 
dragoman  and  cook,  who  are  sent  into  Quarantine  for  our  sakes, 
take  compassion  on  us  ;  the  fires  are  kindled  in  the  cold 
furnaces  ;  savory  steams  creep  up  the  stairs  ;  the  preparations 
Increase,  and  finally  climax  in  the  rapturous  announcement : 
'*  Messieurs,  dinner  is  ready."  The  soup  is  liquified  bliss ;  the 
vteltttes  cFagneau  are  eotdettts  de  bonheur ;  and  as  for  that  broad 
dish  of  Syrian  larks — Heaven  forgive  is  the  regret  that  more 
Bonga  had  not  been  silenced  for  oir  sake  1  The  meal  is  al1 


ram  LANDS  OF  THE   BABACIK. 

nectar  and  ambrosia,  and  now,  filled  and  contented,  we  subside 
intc  sleep  on  comfortable  couches.  So  closes  the  first  day  of 
our  incarceration. 

This  morning  dawned  clear  and  beautiful.  Lebanon,  except 
his  snowy  crest,  was  wrapped  in  the  early  shadows,  but  the 
Mediterranean  gleamed  like  a  shield  of  sapphire,  and  Beyrout, 
sculptured  against  the  background  of  its  mulberry  groves,  was 
glorified  beyond  all  other  cities.  The  turf  around  our  pavilion 
fairly  blazed  with  the  splendor  of  the  yellow  daisies  and  crim- 
son poppies  that  stud  it.  I  was  satisfied  with  what  I  saw,  and 
felt  no  wish  to  leave  Quarantine  to-day.  Our  Italian  friend, 
however,  is  more  impatient.  His  betrothed  came  early  to  set 
him,  and  we  were  edified  by  the  great  alacrity  with  which  he 
hastened  to  the  grate,  to  renew  his  vows  at  two  yards'  distance 
from  her.  In  the  meantime,  I  went  down  to  the  Turkish 
houses,  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  a  singular  character  I 
met  on  board  the  steamer.  He  is  a  negro  of  six  feet  four, 
dressed  in  a  long  scarlet  robe.  His  name  is  Mahommed 
Senoosee,  and  he  is  a  fakeer,  or  holy  man,  from  Timbuctoo 
He  has  been  two  years  absent  from  home,  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca  and  Medina,  and  is  now  on  his  way  to  Jerusalem  and 
Damascus.  He  has  travelled  extensively  in  all  parts  of  Cen- 
tral Africa,  from  Dar-Fur  to  Ashantee,  and  professes  to  be  on 
good  terms  with  the  Sultans  of  Houssa  and  Bornou.  He  has 
even  been  in  the  great  kingdom  of  Waday,  which  has  never 
been  explored  by  Europeans,  and  as  far  south  as  lola,  the  capi- 
tal of  Adamowa.  Of  the  correctness  of  his  narrations  I  have 
not  the  least  doubt,  as  they  correspond  geographically  with  all 
that  we  know  of  the  interior  of  Africa.  In  answer  to  my 
question  whether  a  European  might  safely  make  the  same  tour, 


SUNDAY    IN    QUARANTINE.  88 

he  replied  that  there  would  be  no  difficulty,  provided  ne  waa 
accompanied  by  a  native,  and  be  offered  to  take  me  even  to 
Pimbuctoo,  if  I  would  return  with  him.  He  was  very  curioua 
to  obtain  information  about  America,  and  made  notes  of  all 
that  I  told  him,  in  the  quaint  character  used  by  the  Mughreb 
bins,  or  Arabs  of  the  West,  which  has  considerable  resem- 
blance to  the  ancient  Cufic.  He  wishes  to  join  company  with 
me  for  the  journey  to  Jerusalem,  and  perhaps  I  shall  accept 
him. 

Sunday,  April  18. 

As  Quarantine  is  a  sort  of  limbo,  without  the  pale  of  civi- 
lized society,  we  have  no  church  service  to-day.  We  have 
done  the  best  we  could,  however,  in  sending  one  of  the  outside 
dragomen  to  purchase  a  Bible,  in  which  we  succeeded.  He 
brought  us  a  very  handsome  copy,  printed  by  the  American 
Bible  Society  in  New  York.  I  tried  vainly  in  Cairo  aud  Alex- 
andria to  find  a  missionary  who  would  supply  my  heathenish 
destitution  of  the  Sacred  Writings;  for  I  had  reached  the  East 
through  Austria,  where  they  are  prohibited,  and  to  travel 
through  Palestine  without  them,  would  be  like  sailing  without 
pilot  or  compass.  It  gives  a  most  impressive  reality  to  Solo- 
mon's "  house  of  the  forest  of  Lebanon,"  when  you  can  look  up 
from  the  page  to  those  very  forests  and  those  grand  mountains, 
"  excellent  with  the  cedars."  Seeing  the  holy  man  of  Timbuc- 
too  praying  with  his  face  towards  Mecca,  I  went  down  to  him, 
auri  we  conversed  for  a  long  time  on  religious  matters.  He  is 
tolerably  well  informed,  having  read  the  Books  of  Moses  and 
thc>  Psalms  of  David,  but,  like  ull  Mahommedans,  his  ideas  of 
religion  consist  mainly  of  forms,  and  its  reward  is  a  sensual 
paradise.  The  more  intelligent  of  the  Moslems  give  a  spiritual 


24  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

interpretation  to  the  nature  of  the  Heaven  promised  by  thi 
Prophet,  and  I  have  heard  several  openly  confess  their  disbe- 
lief in  the  seventy  houries  and  the  palaces  of  pearl  and  emerald 
Shekh  Mahommed  Senoosee  scarcely  ever  utters  a  sentence  in 
which  is  not  the  word  "Allah,"  and  "La  illah  il'  Allah"  is 
repeated  at  least  every  five  miuutes.  Those  of  his  class  consi- 
der that  there  is  a  peculiar  merit  in  the  repetition  of  the  names 
and  attributes  of  God.  They  utterly  reject  the  doctrine  of  th« 
Trinity,  which  they  believe  implies  a  sort  of  partnership,  or 
God-firm  (to  use  their  own  words),  and  declare  that  all  who 
accept  it  are  hopelessly  damned.  To  deny  Mahomet's  prophet- 
ihiD  would  excile  a  violent  antagonism,  and  I  content  myself 
with  making  them  acknowledge  tnat  God  is  greater  than  al: 
Prophets  or  Apostles,  and  that  there  is  but  one  God  for  all  tin 
human  race.  I  have  never  yet  encountered  that  bitter  spirt 
of  bigotry  which  is  so  frequently  ascribed  to  them;  but  on  the 
contrary,  fully  as  great  a  tolerance  as  they  would  find  exhibited 
towards  them  by  most  of  the  Christian  sects. 

• 

This  morning  a  paper  was  sent  to  us,  on  which  we  were 
requested  to  write  our  names,  ages,  professions,  and  places  of 
nativity.  We  conjectured  that  we  were  subjected  to  the  sus- 
picion of  political  as  well  as  physical  taint,  but  happily  this  was 
not  the  case.  I  registered  myself  as  a  i-oyagenr,  the  French  as 
ncgocians,  and  when  it  came  to  the  woman's  turn,  Absalom, 
vho  is  a  partisan  of  female  progress,  wished  to  give  her  the 
same  profession  as  her  husband — a  machinist.  But  she 
declared  that  her  only  profession  was  that  of  a  "  married 
woman,"  and  she  was  so  inscribed.  Her  peevish  boy  rejoiced 
in  the  title  of  "  pleurickeur"  or  "  weeper,"  and  the  infant  as 
'  titeuse."  or  "  surker."  While  this  was  going  on,  the  guardi 


TRUMPETS.  2fi 

ano  of  our  room  caine  in  very  mysteriously,  and  beckoned  to  mj 
companion,  saying  that  "  Mademoiselle  was  at  the  gate."  But 
it  was  the  Italian  who  was  wanted,  and  again,  from  the  little 
window  of  our  pavilion,  we  watched  his  hurried  progress  over 
the  lawn.  No  sooner  had  she  departed,  than  he  took  his  pocket 
telescope,  slowly  sweeping  the  circuit  of  the  bay  as  she  drew 
nearer  and  nearer  Beyrout.  He  has  succeeded  in  distinguish- 
ing, among  the  mass  of  buildings,  the  top  of  the  house  in  which 
she  lives,  but  alas!  it  is  one  story  too  low,  and  his  patient 
espial  has  only  been  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  some  cats 
promenading  on  the  roof. 

I  have  succeeded  in  obtaining  some  further  particulars  in 
relation  to  Quarantine.  On  the  night  of  our  arrival,  as  we 
were  about  getting  into  our  beds,  a  sudden  and  horrible  gusii 
of  brimstone  vapor  came  up  stairs,  and  we  all  fell  to  coughing 
like  patients  in  a  pulmonary  hospital.  The  odor  increased  till 
we  were  obliged  to  open  the  windows  and  sit  beside  them  in 
order  to  breathe  comfortably.  This  was  the  preparatory  fumi- 
gation, in  order  to  remove  the  ranker  seeds  of  plague,  after 
which  the  milder  symptoms  will  of  themselves  vanish  in  the 
pure  air  of  the  place.  Several  times  a  day  we  are  stunned 
and  overwhelmed  with  the  cracked  brays  of  three  discordant 
trumpets,  as  grating  and  doleful  as  the  last  gasps  of  a  dying 
donkey.  At  first  I  supposed  the  object  of  this  was  to  give  a 
greater  agitation  to  the  air,  and  separate  and  shake  down  the 
noxious  exhalations  we  emit ;  but  since  I  was  informed  that  the 
soldiers  outside  would  shoot  us  in  case  we  attempted  to  escape, 
I  have  concluded  that  the  sound  is  meant  to  alarm  us,  and  pre- 
rent  our  approaching  too  near  the  walls.  On  inquiring  of  our 
guardiano  whether  the  wheat  growing  within  the  grounds  wai 


26  THE    LANDS     OF     THE     SARACEN. 

subject  to  Quarantine,  he  informed  me  that  it  did  not  ccovej 
infection,  and  that  three  old  geese,  who  walked  out  past  the 
guard  with  impunity,  were  free  to  go  and  come,  as  they  had 
never  been  known  to  have  the  plague.  Yesterday  evening  the 
medical  attendant,  a  Polish  physician,  came  in  to  inspect  us, 
but  he  made  a  very  hasty  review,  looking  down  on  us  from  the 
top  of  a  high  horse. 

Monday,  ApHt  19. 

Eureka  I  the  whole  thing  is  explained.  Talking  to  day  with 
the  guardiano,  he  happened  to  mention  that  he  had  been  three 
years  in  Quarantine,  keeping  watch  over  infected  travellers. 
"  What  1"  said  I,  "  you  have  been  sick  three  years."  "  Oh 
no,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  have  never  been  sick  at  all."  "  But  are 
not  people  sick  in  Quarantine  ?"  "  Stafftrittah  /"  he  exclaimed ; 
'  they  are  always  in  better  health  than  the  people  outside." 
"  What  is  Quarantine  for,  then  ?"  I  persisted.  "  What  is  it  for  ?" 
he  repeated,  with  a  pause  of  blank  amazement  at  my  ignorance, 
"  why,  to  get  money  from  the  travellers  !"  Indiscreet  guar- 
diano  !  It  were  better  to  suppose  ourselves  under  suspicion  of 
the  plague,  than  to  have  such  an  explanation  of  the  mystery. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  the  unpalatable  knowledge,  I  almost  regret 
that  this  is  our  last  day  in  the  establishment.  The  air  is  so 
pure  and  bracing,  the  views  from  our  windows  so  magniGcent, 
the  colonized  branch  of  the  Beyrout  Hotel  so  comfortable, 
that  I  am  content  to  enjoy  this  pleasant  idleness — the  more 
pleasant  since,  being  involuntary,  it  is  no  weight  on  the  con- 
science. I  look  up  to  the  Maronite  villages,  perched  on  the 
slopes  of  Lebanon,  with  scarce  a  wish  to  climb  to  them.  Of 
taming  to  the  sparkling  Mediterranean,  view 


ORIENTAL    EXAGGERATION.  SI 

"The  speronaia's  sail  of  snowy  hue 
Whitening  and  brightening  on  that  field  of  bine," 

and  have  none  of  that  unrest  which  the  sight  of  a  vessel  in 
motion  suggests. 

To-day  my  friend  from  Timbuctoo  came  up  to  have  another 
talk.  He  was  curious  to  know  the  object  of  my  travels,  and 
as  he  would  not  have  comprehended  the  exact  truth,  I  was 
obliged  to  convey  it  to  him  through  the  medium  of  fiction.  I 
informed  him  that  I  had  been  dispatched  by  the  Sultan  of  my 
country  to  obtain  information  of  the  countries  of  Africa;  that 
I  wrote  in  a  book  accounts  of  everything  I  saw,  and  on  my 
return,  would  present  this  book  to  the  Sultan,  who  would  re- 
ward me  with  a  high  rank — perhaps  even  that  of  Grand  Vizier. 
The  Orientals  deal  largely  in  hyperbole,  and  scatter  numbers 
and  values  with  the  most  reckless  profusion.  The  Arabic,  like 
the  Hebrew,  its  sister  tongue,  and  other  old  original  tongues 
of  Man,  is  a  language  of  roots,  and  abounds  with  the  boldest 
metaphors.  Now,  exaggeration  is  but  the  imperfect  form  of 
metaphor.  The  expression  is  always  a  splendid  amplification  of 
the  simple  fact.  Like  skilful  archers,  in  order  to  hit  the  mark, 
they  aim  above  it.  When  you  have  once  learned  his  standard 
of  truth,  you  can  readily  gauge  an  Arab's  expressions,  and 
regulate  your  own  accordingly.  But  whenever  I  have  attempted 
to  strike  the  key-note  myself,  I  generally  found  that  it  was 
below,  rather  than  above,  the  Oriental  pitch. 

The  Shekh  had  already  iuformed  me  that  the  King  of  Ashan- 
See,  whom  he  had  visited,  possessed  twenty-four  houses  full  of 
gold,  and  that  the  Sultan  of  Houssa  had  seventy  thousand 
torses  always  standing  saddled  before  his  palace,  in  order  that 
he  might  take  his  choice,  when  he  wished  to  ride  oat.  By  this 


88  THE    LANDS    OF    THE     SAIUCKN. 

he  did  not  mean  that  the  facts  were  precisely  so,  but  only  that 
the  King  was  very  rich,  and  the  Snltan  had  a  great  manj 
horses.  In  order  to  give  the  Shekh  an  idea  of  the 'great  wealth 
and  power  of  the  American  Nation,  I  was  obliged  to  adopt  the 
same  p'an.  I  told  him,  therefore,  that  our  country  was  twc 
years'  journey  in  extent,  that  the  Treasury  consisted  of  foui 
thousand  houses  filled  to  the  roof  with  gold,  and  that  two  hun- 
dred thousand  soldiers  on  horseback  kept  continual  guard 
around  Sultan  Fillmore's  palace.  He  received  these  tremendous 
statements  with  the  utmost  serenity  and  satisfaction,  carefully 
writing  them  ia  his  book,  together  with  the  name  of  Sultar 
Fillmore,  whose  fame  has  ere  this  reached  the  remote  regions 
of  Timbuctoo  The  Shekh,  moreover,  had  the  desire  of  visiting 
England,  and  wished  me  to  give  him  a  letter  to  the  English 
Sultan.  This  rather  exceeded  my  powers,  but  I  wrote  a  simple 
certificate  explaining  who  he  was,  and  whence  he  came,  which 
I  sealed  with  an  immense  display  of  wax,  and  gave  him.  Ii 
return,  he  wrote  his  name  in  my  book,  in  the  Mughrebbin  char- 
acter, adding  the  sentence  :  "  There  is  no  God  but  God." 

This  evening  the  forbidden  subject  of  politics  crept  into  our 
quiet  community,  and  the  result  was  an  explosive  contention 
which  drowned  even  the  braying  of  the  agonizing  trumpets  out- 
side. The  gentlemanly  Frenchman  is  a  sensible  and  consistent 
republican,  the  old  JUateur  a  violent  monarchist,  while  Absa- 
lom, as  I  might  have  foreseen,  is  a  Red,  of  the  schools  of  Proud- 
hon  and  Considerant.  The  first  predicted  a  Republic  in 
France,  the  second  a  Monarchy  in  America,  and  the  last  was 
in  favor  of  a  general  and  total  demolition  of  all  existing  sy» 
terns.  Of  course,  with  such  elements,  anything  like  a  serious 
discussion  was  impossible  ;  and,  as  in  most  French  debates,  ii 


DRAGOMEN  99 

ended  in  a  bewildering  confusion  of  cries  and  gesticulations 
In  the  midst  of  it,  I  was  struck  by  the  cordiality  with  whicl 
the  Monarchist  and  the  Socialist  united  in  their  denunciation* 
of  England  and  the  English  laws.  As  they  sat  side  by  side 
pouring  out  anathemas  against  "  perfide  Albion,"  I  couid  uol 
help  exclaiming  :  "  Vm-ld,  comme  Us  extremes  se  rencontrenl  ' r 
This  turned  the  whole  current  of  their  wrath  against  me,  aud 
I  was  glad  to  make  a  hasty  retreat. 

The  physician  again  visited  us  to-night,  to  promise  a  release 
to-morrow  morning.  He  looked  us  all  in  the  faces,  to  be  cer- 
tain that  there  were  no  signs  of  pestilence,  and  politely  regret- 
ted that  he  could  not  offer  us  his  hand.  The  husband  of  the 
"  married  woman"  also  came,  and  relieved  the  other  gentlemen 
from  the  charge  of  the  "  weeper."  He  was  a  stout,  ruddy 
Provencal,  in  a  white  blouse,  and  I  commiserated  him  sincerely 
for  having  such  a  disagreeable  wife. 

To-day,  being  the  last  of  our  imprisonment,  we  have  received 
many  tokens  of  attention  from  dragomen,  who  have  sent  their 
papers  through  the  grate  to  us,  to  be  returned  to-morrow  after 
our  liberation.  They  are  not  very  prepossessing  specimens  of 
their  class,  with  the  exception  of  Yusef  Badra,  who  brings  a 
recommendation  from  my  friend,  Ross  Browne.  Yusef  is  a 
handsome,  dashing  fellow,  with  something  of  the  dandy  in  his 
dress  and  air,  but  he  has  a  fine,  clear,  sparkling  eye,  with  just 
enough  of  the  devil  in  it  to  make  him  attractive.  I  think,  how 
ever,  that  the  Greek  dragoman,  who  has  been  our  companion 
in  Quarantine,  will  carry  the  day.  He  is  by  birth  a  Bo3otian, 
but  now  a  citizen  of  Athens,  and  calls  himself  Frangois  Vitalis 
He  speaks  French,  German,  and  Italian,  besides  Arabic  and 
Turkish,  and  as  he  has  been  for  twelve  or  fifteen  years  vibrat 


THE    LANDS     OF    THE    SABACKN. 

ing  between  Europe  and  the  East,  he  most  by  this  time  hart 
amassed  sufficient  experience  to  answer  the  needs  of  rough-and- 
tumble  travellers  like  ourselves.  He  has  not  asked  us  for  the 
place,  which  displays  so  much  penetration  on  his  part,  that  we 
shall  end  by  offering  it  to  him.  Perhaps  he  is  content  to  rest 
his  claims  upon  the  memory  of  our  first  Quarantine  dinner.  If 
so,  the  odors  of  the  cutlets  and  larks — even  of  the  raw  onion, 
which  we  remember  with  tears — shall  not  plead  his  cause  io 
vain. 

Brraotrr  (out  of  Quarantine),  Wednesday,  May  SI. 

The  handsome  Greek,  Diamanti,  one  of  the  proprietors  ci 
the  "  Hotel  de  Belle  Vue,"  was  on  hand  bright  and  early  yes- 
terday morning,  to  welcome  us  out  of  Quarantine.  The  gatel 
were  thrown  wide,  and  forth  we  issued  between  two  files  of 
soldiers,  rejoicing  in  our  purification.  We  walked  through  mul- 
berry orchards  to  the  town,  and  through  its  steep  and  crooked 
streets  to  the  hotel,  which  stands  beyond,  near  the  extremity 
of  the  Cape,  or  Ras  Beyrout.  The  town  is  small,  but  has  an 
active  population,  and  a  larger  commerce  than  any  other  port 
in  Syria.  The  anchorage,  however,  is  an  open  road,  and  in 
stormy  weather  it  is  impossible  for  a  boat  to  land.  There  are 
two  picturesque  old  castles  on  some  rocks  near  the  shore,  but 
they  were  almost  destroyed  by  the  English  bombardment  hi 
1841.  I  noticed  two  or  three  granite  columns,  now  used  as 
the  lintels  of  some  of  the  arched  ways  in  the  streets,  and  other 
fragments  of  old  masonry,  the  only  remains  of  the  ancien 
Berytus. 

Our  time,  since  our  release,  has  been  occupied  by  prepara- 
tions for  the  journey  to  Jerusalem.  We  have  taken  Francois 
as  dragoman,  and  our  nukkairee,  or  muleteers,  are  engaged  t* 


fREFAKATiONS     FOR     DKPARTUB*.  '61 

be  iu  readiness  to-morrow  morning.  I  learn  that  the  Druse* 
are  in  revolt  in  Djebel  Hauaranand  parts  of  the  Anti-Lebanon, 
which  will  prevent  my  forming  any  settled  plan  for  the  tool 
through  Palestine  and  Syria.  Up  to  this  time,  the  country  has 
been  considered  quite  safe,  the  only  robbery  this  winter  having 
been  that  of  the  party  of  Mr.  Degen,  of  Now  York,  which  was 
plundered  near  Tiberias.  Dr.  Robinson  left  h^re  two  weeks 
age  for  Jerusalem,  in  company  with  Dr.  Eh  Smith,  of  the 
American  Mission  at  this  place. 


32  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 


CHAP  T  E  II    II. 

THE     COAST     OF      PALESTINE. 

The  Pilgrimage  Commences— The  Muleteers— The  Mules— The  Donkey — Jour- 
ney to  Sidon — The  Foot  of  Lebanon — Pictures— The  Ruins  of  Tyre- -A  Wild 
Morning — The  Tynan  Surges — Climbing  the  Ladder  of  Tyre — Panorama  of  the 
Bay  of  Acre — The  Plain  of  Esdraelon — Camp  in  a  Garden — Acre — The  Shore 
of  the  Bay — Haifa — Mount  Carmel  and  its  Monastery — A  Deserted  Coast — The 
Ruins  of  Caesarea— The  Scenery  of  Palestine— We  become  Robbers—  K.I  Haram— 
Wrecks— The  Harbor  and  Town  of  Jaffa. 

"  Along  the  line  of  foam,  the  jewelled  chain, 
The  largesse  of  the  ever-giving  main." 

R.  H.  STUDOARD. 

RAMLEH,  April -2.7^  1832. 

WK  left  Beyrout  on  the  morning  of  the  22d.  Our  caravan 
3onsisted  of  three  horses,  three  mules,  aud  a  donkey,  in  charge 
of  two  men — Dervish,  an  erect,  black-bearded,  and  most 
impassive  Mussulman,  and  Mustapha,  who  is  the  very  picture 
of  patience  and  good-nature.  He  was  born  with  a  smile  on 
his  face,  and  has  never  been  able  to  change  the  expression. 
They  are  both  masters  of  their  art,  and  can  load  a  mule  with  a 
speed  and  skill  which  I  would  defy  any  Santa  Fe  trader  tc 
excel.  The  animals  are  not  less  interesting  than  their  masters. 
Our  horses,  to  be  sure,  are  slow,  plodding  beasts,  with  consi- 
derable endurance,  but  little  spirit  ;  but  the  two  baggage- 
males  deserve  gold  medals  from  the  Society  for  the  Promotiou 


THE    MULES  33 

of  Industry,  i  can  overlook  any  amount  of  waywardness 
in  the  creatures,  in  consideration  of  the  steady,  persevering 
energy,  the  cheerfulness  and  even  enthusiasm  with  which  thej 
perform  their  duties.  They  seem  to  be  conscious  that  they  art 
doing  well,  uud  to  take  a  delight  in  the  consciousness.  Om 
of  them  has  a  baud  of  white  shells  around  his  neck,  fastened 
with  a  tassel  and  two  large  blue  beads;  and  you  need  but  look 
at  him  to  see  that  he  is  aware  how  becoming  it  is.  He  thinks 
it  was  given  to  him  for  good  conduct,  and  is  doing  his  best  to 
merit  another.  The  little  donkey  is  a  still  more  original 
animal.  He  is  a  practical  humorist,  full  of  perverse  tricks, 
but  all  intended  for  effect,  and  without  a  particle  of  malice. 
He  generally  walks  behind,  running  off  to  one  side  or  the 
other  to  crop  a  mouthful  of  grass,  but  no  sooner  does  Dervish 
attempt  to  mount  him,  than  he  sets  off  at  full  gallop,  and 
takes  the  lead  of  the  caravan.  After  having  performed  one 
of  his  feats,  he  turns  around  with  a  droll  glance  at  us,  as  much 
as  to  say  :  "  Did  you  see  that  ?"  If  we  had  not  been  present, 
most  assuredly  he  would  never  have  done  it.  I  can  imagine 
him,  after  his  return  to  Beyrout,  relating  his  adventures  to  a 
company  of  fellow-donkeys,  who  every  now  and  then  burst  into 
tremendous  brays  at  some  of  his  irresistible  dry  sayings. 

I  persuaded  Mr.  Harrison  to  adopt  the  Oriental  costume, 
which,  from  five  months'  wear  in  Africa,  I  greatly  preferred  to 
the  Frank.  We  therefore  rode  out  of  Beyrout  as  a  paii 
of  Syrian  Beys,  while  Francois,  with  his  belt,  sabre,  and  pistols 
had  mmh  the  aspect  of  a  Greek  brigand.  The  road  crosses  the 
h'll  behind  the  city,  between  the  Forest  of  Pines  and  a  long 
tract  of  red  sand-hills  next  the  sea.  It  was  a  lovely  morning, 
not  too  bright  and  hot,  for  liirht,  fleecy  vapors  hung  along  th» 

a* 


84  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEH. 

sides  of  Lebanon.  Beyond  the  mulberry  orchards,  we  entered 
on  wild,  half-cultivated  tracts,  covered  with  a  bewildering  maze 
of  blossoms.  The  hill-side  and  stony  shelves  of  soil  overhang- 
ing the  sea  fairly  blazed  with  the  brilliant  dots  of  color  which 
ware  rained  upon  them.  The  pink,  the  broom,  the  poppy,  the 
speedwell,  the  lupin,  that  beautiful  variety  of  the  cyclamen, 
called  by  the  Syrians  "  deek  e-djebel "  (cock  o'  the  mountain), 
and  a  number  of  unknown  plants  dazzled  the  eye  with  their 
profusion,  and  loaded  the  air  with  fragrance  as  rare  as  it  was 
unfailing.  Here  and  there,  clear,  swift  rivulets  came  dowL 
from  Lebanon,  coursing  their  way  between  thickets  of  bloom- 
ing oleanders.  Just  before  crossing  the  little  river  Damoor, 
Francois  pointed  out,  on  one  of  the  distant  heights,  the  resi- 
dence of  the  late  Lady  Hester  Stanhope.  During  the  after- 
noon we  crossed  several  offshoots  of  the  Lebanon,  by  paths 
incredibly  steep  and  stony,  and  towards  evening  reached  Saida, 
the  ancient  Sidon,  where  we  obtained  permission  to  pitch  our 
tent  in  a  garden.  The  town  is  built  on  a  narrow  point  of  land, 
jutting  out  from  the  centre  of  a  bay,  or  curve  in  the  coast,  and 
contains  about  five  thousand  inhabitants.  It  is  a  quiet,  sleepy 
sort  of  a  place,  and  contains  nothing  of  the  old  Sidon  except  a 
few  stones  and  the  fragments  of  a  mole,  extending  into  the  sea 
The  fortress  in  the  water,  and  the  Citadel,  are  remnants  of 
Venitian  sway.  The  clouds  gathered  after  nightfall,  and 
occasionally  there  was  a  dash  of  rain  on  our  tent.  But  I  heard 
it  »ith  the  same  quiet  happiness,  as  when,  in  boyhood,  sleep- 
ing beneath  the  rafters,  I  have  heard  the  rain  beating  all  night 
upon  the  roof.  I  breathed  the  sweet  breath  of  the  grasses 
whereon  my  carpet  was  spread,  and  old  Mother  Earth,  wel- 
coming me  back  to  her  bosom,  cradled  me  into  calm  and 


THS    FOOT     tr    LEBANON  85 

refreshing  sleep.  There  is  no  rest  more  grateful  than  that 
which  we  take  on  the  turf  or  the  sand,  except  the  rest  below 
it. 

We  rose  in  a  dark  and  cloudy  morning,  and  continued  oui 
way  between  fields  of  barley,  completely  stained  with  the 
bloody  hue  of  the  poppy,  and  meadows  turned  into  golden 
mosaic  by  a  brilliant  yellow  daisy.  Until  noon  our  road  was 
over  a  region  of  alternate  meadow  land  and  gentle  though  stony 
elevations,  making  out  from  Lebanon.  We  met  continually 
with  indications  of  ancient  power  and  prosperity.  The  ground 
was  strewn  with  hewn  blocks,  and  the  foundations  of  buildings 
remain  in  many  places.  Broken  sarcophagi  lie  half-buried  in 
grass,  and  the  gray  rocks  of  the  hills  are  pierced  with  tombs. 
The  soil,  though  stony,  appeared  to  be  naturally  fertile,  and 
the  crops  of  wheat,  barley,  and  lentils  were  vet/  flourishing. 
After  rounding  the  promontory  which  forms  the  southern  boun- 
dary of  the  Gulf  of  Sidou,  we  rode  for  an  hour  or  two  over  a 
plain  near  the  sea,  and  then  came  down  to  a  valley  which  ran 
up  among  the  hills,  terminating  in  a  natural  amphitheatre.  An 
ancient  barrow,  or  tumulus,  nobody  knows  of  whom,  stands 
near  the  sea.  During  the  day  I  noticed  two  charming  little 
pictures.  One,  a  fountain  gushing  into  a  broad  square  basin 
of  masonry,  shaded  by  three  branching  cypresses.  Two  Turks 
sat  on  its  edge,  eating  their  bread  and  curdled  milk,  while 
their  horses  drank  out  of  the  stone  trough  below.  The  other, 
an  old  Mahommedan,  with  a  green  turban  and  white  robe, 
seated  at  the  foot  of  a  majestic  sycamore,  over  the  high  bank 
if  a  stream  that  tumbled  down  its  bed  of  white  marble  rock  to 
the  sea. 

The  plain  back  of  the  narrow,  sandy  promontory  on  which 


THE     LANDS    OF    THE     SARACEH. 

the  modern  Soor  is  built,  is  a  rich  black  loam,  which  a  little 
proper  culture  would  turn  into  a  very  garden.  It  helped  me 
to  account  for  the  wealth  of  ancient  Tyre.  The  approach  tc 
the  town,  along  a  beach  on  which  the  surf  broke  with  a  ccn 
tinuous  roar,  with  the  wreck  of  a  Greek  vessel  in  the  fore- 
ground, and  a  stormy  sky  behind,  was  very  striking.  It  wa» 
a  wild,  bleak  picture,  the  white  minarets  of  the  town  standing 
out  spectrally  against  the  clouds.  We  rode  up  the  sand-hills, 
back  of  the  town,  and  selected  a  good  camping-place  among 
the  ruins  of  Tyre.  Near  us  there  was  an  ancient  square  build- 
ing, now  used  as  a  cistern,  and  filled  with  excellent  fresh  water 
The  surf  roared  tremendously  on  the  rocks,  on  either  hand, 
and  the  boom  of  the  more  distant  breakers  came  to  my  eaj 
like  the  wind  in  a  pine  forest.  The  remains  of  the  ancient  sea- 
wall are  still  to  be  traced  for  the  entire  circuit  of  the  city,  and 
the  heavy  surf  breaks  upon  piles  of  shattered  granite  columns 
Along  a  sort  of  mole,  protecting  an  inner  harbor  on  the  north 
side,  are  great  numbers  of  these  columns.  I  counted  fifteen 
in  one  group,  some  of  them  fine  red  granite,  and  some  of  the 
marble  of  Lebanon.  The  remains  of  the  pharos  and  the  for- 
tresses strengthening  the  sea-wall,  were  pointed  out  by  the 
Syrian  who  accompanied  us  as  a  guide,  but  his  faith  was  a 
little  stronger  than  mine.  He  even  showed  us  the  ruins  of  the 
jetty  built  by  Alexander,  by  means  of  which  the  ancient  city, 
then  insulated  by  the  sea,  was  taken.  The  remains  of  the  cause- 
way gradually  formed  the  promontory  by  which  the  place  is 
now  connected  with  the  main  land.  These  are  the  principal 
indications  of  Tyre  above  ground,  but  the  guide  informed  us 
that  the  Arabs,  in  digging  among  the  sand-hills  for  the  stones 
of  the  old  buildings,  which  they  quarry  out  and  ship  to  Bey 


THE    TYRIAN     SURGES.  37 

rout,  come  upon  chambers,  pillars,  arches,  and  other  object*. 
The  Tyrian  purple  if  still  furnished  by  a  muscle  found  upon  th( 
coast,  but  Tyre  is  now  only  noted  for  its  tobacco  ana  mill 
stones.  I  saw  many  of  the  latter  lying  in  the  streets  cf  tbt 
town,  and  an  Arab  was  selling  a  quantity  at  auction  in  the 
square,  as  we  passed.  They  are  cut  out  from  a  species  of  dark 
volcanic  rock,  by  the  Bedouins  of  the  mountains.  There  were 
naif  a  dozen  small  coasting  vessels  lying  in  the  road,  but  the 
old  harbors  are  entirely  destroyed.  Isaiah's  prophecy  is  liter 
ally  fulfilled  :  "  Howl,  ye  ships  of  Tarshish  ;  for  it  is  laid  waste, 
so  that  there  is  no  house,  uo  entering  in." 

On  returning  from  our  ramble  we  passed  the  house  of  the 
Governor,  Daood  Agha,  who  was  dispensing  justice  in  regard 
to  a  lawsuit  then  before  him.  He  asked  us  to  stop  and  take 
coffee,  and  received  us  with  much  grace  and  dignity.  As  we 
rose  to  leave,  a  slave  brought  me  a  large  bunch  of  choice  flowera 
from  his  garden. 

We  set  out  from  Tyre  at  an  early  hour,  and  rode  along  tht 
beach  around  the  head  of  the  bay  to  the  Ras-el-Abiad,  the 
ancient  Promontorium  Album.  The  morning  was  wild  and 
cloudy,  with  gleams  of  sunshine  that  flashed  out  over  the  dark 
violet  gloom  of  the  sea.  The  surf  was  magnificent,  rolling  up 
in  grand  billows,  which  broke  and  formed  again,  till  the  last 
of  the  long,  falling  fringes  of  snow  slid  seething  up  the  sand 
Something  of  ancient  power  was  in  their  shock  and  roar,  aiid 
every  great  wave  that  plunged  and  drew  back  again,  called  in 
its  solemn  bass:  "Where  are  the  ships  of  Tyre?  where  are 
the  ships  of  Tyre  ?"  I  looked  back  on  the  city,  which  stood 
advanced  far  into  the  sea,  her  feet  bathed  in  thunderous  spray. 
By  and  by  the  clov.ds  cleared  away,  the  son  came  out  bold  and 


88  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACBN. 

bright,  and  our  road  left  the  beach  for  a  meadowy  plain, 
crossed  by  fresh  streams,  and  sown  with  an  inexhaustible  wealth 
of  flowers.  Through  thickets  of  myrtle  and  mastic,  around 
which  the  rue  and  lavender  grew  in  dense  clusters,  we  reached 
tbe  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  began  ascending  the  celebrated 
Ladder  of  Tyre.  The  road  is  so  steep  as  to  resemble  a  stair- 
case, and  climbs  along  the  side  of  the  promontory,  hanging 
over  precipices  of  naked  white  rock,  in  some  places  three  hun- 
dred feet  in  height.  The  mountain  is  a  mass  of  maguesian 
limestone,  with  occasional  beds  of  marble.  The  surf  has  worn 
its  foot  into  hollow  caverns,  into  which  the  sea  rushes  with  a 
doll,  heavy  boom,  like  distant  thunder.  The  sides  are  covered 
with  thickets  of  broom,  myrtle,  arbutus,  ilex,  mastic  and  laurel, 
overgrown  with  woodbine,  and  interspersed  with  patches  of 
sage,  lavender,  hyssop,  wild  thyme,  and  rue.  The  whole  moun- 
tain is  a  heap  of  balm  ;  a  bundle  of  sweet  spices. 

Our  horses'  hoofs  clattered  up  and  down  the  rounds  of  the 
ladder,  and  we  looked  our  last  on  Tyre,  fading  away  behind 
the  white  hem  of  the  breakers,  as  we  turned  the  point  of  the 
promontory.  Another  cove  of  the  mountain-coast  followed, 
terminated  by  the  Cape  of  Xakhura,  the  northern  point  of  the 
Bay  of  Acre.  We  rode  along  a  stony  way  between  fields  of 
jrheat  and  barley,  blotted  almost  out  of  sight  by  showers  of 
scarlet  poppies  and  yellow  chrysanthemums.  There  were  fre- 
quent ruins  :  fragments  of  sarcophagi,  foundations  of  houses, 
and  about  half  way  between  the  two  capes,  the  mounds  of 
Alexandro-Schoenae.  We  stopped  at  a  khan,  and  breakfasted 
nader  a  magnificent  olive  tree,  while  two  boys  tended  oui 
torses  to  see  that  they  ate  only  the  edges  of  the  wheat  field 
Below  the  boose  were  t  vc  large  cypresses,  and  on  a  little 


PANORAMA    OF    THE     BAY     OF    ACBR.  Sfl 

iongoe  of  land  the  ruins  of  one  of  those  square  towers  of  the 
iorsairs,  which  line  all  this  coast.  The  intense  blue  of  the 
sea,  seen  close  at  hand  over  a  broad  field  of  goldening  wheat, 
formed  a  dazzling-  and  superb  contrast  of  color.  Early  in  the 
afternoon  we  climbed  the  Ras  Nakhura,  not  so  bold  and  grand, 
though  quite  as  flowery  a  steep  as  the  Promontorium  Album. 
We  had  been  jogging  half  an  hour  over  its  uneven  summit, 
when  the  side  suddenly  fell  away  below  us,  and  we  saw  the 
whole  of  the  great  gulf  and  plain  of  Acre,  backed  by  the  long 
ridge  of  Mount  Carmel.  Behind  the  sea,  which  makes  a  deep 
indentation  in  the  line  of  the  coast,  extended  the  plain 
bounded  on  the  east,  at  two  leagues'  distance,  by  a  range  of 
hills  covered  with  luxuriant  olive  groves,  and  still  higher,  by 
the  distant  mountains  of  Galilee.  The  fortifications  of  Acre 
were  visible  on  a  slight  promontory  near  the  middle  of  the 
Gulf.  From  our  feet  the  line  of  foamy  surf  extended  for 
miles  along  the  red  sand-beach,  till  it  finally  became  like  a 
chalk-mark  on  the  edge  of  the  field  of  blue. 

We  rode  down  the  mountain  and  continued  our  journey  over 
the  plain  of  Esdraelon — a  picture  of  summer  luxuriance  and 
bloom.  The  waves  of  wheat  and  barley  rolled  away  from  our 
path  to  the  distant  olive  orchards  ;  here  the  water  gushed 
from  a  stone  fountain  and  flowed  into  a  turf-girdled  pool, 
around  which  the  Syrian  women  were  washing  their  garments ; 
there,  a  garden  of  orange,  lemon,  fig,  and  pomegranate  tree? 
'n  blossom,  was  a  spring  of  sweet  odors,  which  overflowed  the 
srhole  land.  We  rode  into  some  of  these  forests,  for  they  were 
no  less,  and  finally  pitched  our  tent  in  one  of  them,  belonging 
to  the  palace  of  the  Conner  Abdullah  Pasha,  within  a  mile  of 
A.cre.  The  old  Saracen  aqueduct,  which  still  conveys  water  tp 


40  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

the  town,  overhung  onr  tent.  For  an  hour  before  reaching  oui 
destination,  we  had  seen  it  on  the  left,  crossing  the  rollows  oc 
light  stone  arches.  In  one  place  I  counted  fifty-eight,  and  ic 
another  one  hundred  and  three  of  these  aiches,  some  of  whicl 
were  fifty  feet  high.  Our  camp  was  a  charming  place  :  a  nest 
of  deep  herbage,  under  two  enormous  fig-trees,  and  surroundec 
by  a  balmy  grove  of  orange  and  citron.  It  was  doubly  bean 
tiful  when  the  long  line  of  the  aqueduct  was  lit  up  by  the  moon, 
and  the  orange  trees  became  mouuds  of  ambrosial  darkness. 

In  the  morning  we  rode  to  Acre,  the  fortifications  of  which 
have  been  restored  on  the  land-side.  A  ponderous  double  gate 
way  of  stone  admitted  us  into  the  city,  through  what  was  once, 
apparently,  the  court-yard  of  a  fortress.  The  streets  of  the 
town  are  narrow,  terribly  rough,  and  very  dirty,  but  the 
bazaars  are  extensive  and  well  stocked.  The  principal  mosque, 
whose  heavy  dome  is  visible  at  some  distance  from  the  city,  is 
surrounded  with  a  garden,  enclosed  by  a  pillared  corridor, 
paved  with  marble.  All  the  houses  of  the  city  are  built  in  the 
most  massive  style,  of  hard  gray  limestone  or  marble,  and  this 
circumstance  alone  prevented  their  complete  destruction  during 
the  English  bombardment  in  1841.  The  mark:  of  the  shells 
are  everywhere  seen,  and  the  upper  parts  of  the  lofty  buildings 
are  completely  riddled  with  cannon-balls,  some  of  which 
remain  embedded  in  the  stone.  We  made  ;i  mpid  tour  of  the 
town  on  horseback,  followed  by  the  curious  "-lances  of  the 
people,  who  were  in  donbt  whether  to  consider  us  Turks*  (X 
Franks.  There  were  a  dozen  vessels  in  the  harbor,  which  u 
considered  the  best  in  Syria. 

The  baggage-mules  had  gone  on,  so  we  galloped  after  them 
ilong  the  hard  beach,  around  the  head  of  the  bay.  It  was  a 


HAlfA     AND     MOUNT     CARMBL.  41 

brilliant  moruiug  ;  a  delicious  south-eastern  breeze  came  to  m 
over  the  flowery  plaiu  of  Esdraelon  ;  the  sea  on  our  right  shone 
blue,  and  purple,  and  violet-greeu,  and  black,  as  the  shadowi 
or  sunshine  crossed  it,  and  only  the  long  lines  of  roaring  foani, 
for  ever  changing  in  form,  did  not  vary  in  hue  A  fisherman 
stood  on  the  beach  in  a  statuesque  attitude,  his  handsome  bare 
legs  bathed  in  the  frothy  swells,  a  bag  of  fish  hanging  from  hia 
shoulder,  and  the  large  square  net,  with  its  sinkers  of  lead  in 
his  right  hand,  ready  for  a  cast.  He  had  good  luck,  for  the 
waves  brought  up  plenty  of  large  fish,  and  cast  them  at  our 
feet,  leaving  them  to  struggle  back  into  the  treacherous  brine. 
Between  Acre  and  Haifa  we  passed  six  or  eight  wrecks,  mostly 
of  small  trading  vessels.  Some  were  half  buried  in  sand,  some 
so  old  and  mossy  that  they  were  fast  rotting  away,  while  a  few 
bad  been  recently  hurled  there.  As  we  rounded  the  deep  curve 
of  the  bay,  and  approached  the  line  of  palm-trees  girding  the 
foot  of  Mount  Carrnel,  Haifa,  with  its  wall  and  Saracenic 
town  in  ruin  on  the  hill  above,  grew  more  clear  and  bright  in 
the  sun,  while  Acre  dipped  into  the  blue  of  the  Mediterranean. 
The  town  of  Haifa,  the  ancient  Caiapha,  is  small,  dirty,  and 
beggarly  looking ;  but  it  has  some  commerce,  sharing  the  trade 
ot  Acre  in  the  productions  of  Syria.  It  was  Sunday,  and  all 
the  Consular  flags  were  flying.  It  was  an  unexpected  delight 
to  find  the  American  colors  in  this  little  Syrian  town,  flying 
Irom  one  of  the  tallest  poles.  The  people  stared  at  us  as  we 
passed,  and  I  noticed  among  them  many  bright  Frankish  faces, 
with  eyes  too  clear  and  gray  for  Syria.  0  ye  kind  brothers  of 
the  monastery  of  Carinel  !  forgive  me  if  I  look  to  you  for  as 
•xplanation  of  this  phenomenon. 

We  ascended  to  Mount  Carinel.     The  path  led  through  f 


42  THE  LANDS  OK  THE  SARACEN. 

grove  of  carob  trees,  from  which  the  beans,  known  in  German) 
as  St.  John's  bread,  are  produced.  After  this  we  came  iutc 
an  olive  grove  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  from  wnich  long 
fields  of  wheat,  giving  forth  a  ripe  summer  smell,  flowed  dowr 
to  the  shore  of  the  bay.  The  olive  trees  were  of  immense  size, 
and  I  can  well  believe,  as  Fra  Carlo  informed  us,  that  they 
were  probably  planted  by  the  Roman  colonists,  established 
there  by  Titus.  The  gnarled,  veteran  boles  still  send  forth 
vigorous  and  blossoming  boughs.  There  were  all  manner  of 
lovely  lights  and  shades  chequered  over  the  turf  and  the  wind- 
ing path  we  rode.  At  last  we  reached  the  foot  of  an  ascent, 
.  steeper  than  the  Ladder  of  Tyre.  As  our  horses  slowly  climbed 
to  the  Convent  of  St.  Elijah,  whence  we  already  saw  the  French 
flag  floating  over  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain,  the  view  opened 
grandly  to  the  north  and  east,  revealing  the  bay  and  plain  of 
Acre,  and  the  coast  as  far  as  Ras  Xakhura,  from  which  we  first 
saw  Mount  Carmel  the  day  previous.  The  two  views  are  very 
similar  in  character,  one  being  the  obverse  of  the  other.  We 
reached  the  Convent — Dayr  Mar  Elias,  as  the  Arabs  call  it — 
at  noon,  just  in  time  to  partake  of  a  bountiful  dinner,  to  which 
the  monks  had  treated  themselves.  Fra  Carlo,  th^  good  Fran- 
ciscan who  receives  strangers,  showed  us  the  building,  and  the 
Grotto  of  Elijah,  which  is  under  the  altar  of  the  Convent 
Church,  a  small  but  very  handsome  structure  of  Italian  marble. 
The  sanctity  of  the  Grotto  depends  on  tradition  entirely,  aa 
there  is  no  mention  in  the  Bible  of  Elijah  having  resided  on 
Carmel,  though  it  was  from  this  mountain  that  he  saw  the 
cloud,  "  like  a  man's  hand,"  rising  from  the  sea.  The  Convent, 
which  is  quite  new — not  yet  completed,  in  fact — la  a  large 
massive  building,  and  has  the  aspect  of  a  fortress. 


THE     RUINS     OF     C^SAKEA.  43 

As  we  were  to  sleep  at  Tautura,  five  hours  distant,  wt 
tvtre  obliged  to  make  a  short  visit,  in  spite  of  the  invitation  of 
the  hospitable  Fra  Carlo  to  spend  the  night  there.  In  tht 
afternoon  we  passed  the  ruins  of  Athlit,  a  town  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  the  Castel  Pellegrino  of  the  Crusaders.  Our  road 
now  followed  the  beach,  nearly  the  whole  distance  to  Jaffa 
and  was  in  many  places,  for  leagues  in  extent,  a  solid  layer  of 
white,  brown,  purple  and  rosy  shells,  which  cracked  and  rattled 
under  our  horses'  feet.  Tautura  is  a  poor  Arab  village,  and 
we  had  some  difficulty  in  procuring  provisions.  The  people 
lived  in  small  huts  of  mud  and  stones,  near  the  sea.  The  place 
had  a  thievish  look,  and  we  deemed  it  best  to  be  careful  in  the 
disposal  of  our  baggage  for  the  night. 

In  the  morning  we  took  the  coast  again,  riding  over  millions 
of  shells.  A  line  of  sandy  hills,  covered  with  thickets  of 
myrtle  and  mastic,  shut  off  the  view  of  the  plain  and  meadows 
between  the  sea  and  the  hills  of  Samaria.  After  three  hours' 
ride  we  saw  the  ruins  of  ancient  Caesarea,  near  a  small  pro- 
montory. The  road  turned  away  from  the  sea,  and  took  the 
wild  plain  behind,  which  is  completely  overgrown  with  camo- 
mile, chrysanthemum  and  wild  shrubs.  The  ruins  of  the  town 
are  visible  at  a  considerable  distance  along  the  coast.  The 
principal  remains  consist  of  a  massive  wall,  flanked  with  pyra- 
midal bastions  at  regular  intervals,  and  with  the  traces  of  gate- 
ways, draw-bridges  and  towers.  It  was  formerly  surrounded 
ly  a  deep  moat.  Within  this  svace,  which  may  oe  a  quartei 
of  a  mile  square,  are  a  few  fragments  of  buildings,  and  toward 
the  sea,  some  high  arches  and  masses  of  masonry.  The  plain 
around  abounds  with  traces  of  houses,  streets,  and  court-yards 
Caesarea  was  one  of  the  Roman  colonies,  but  owed  its  prospfr 


44  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

rity  principally  to  Herod.  St  Paul  passed  through  it  on  hi 
way  from  Macedon  to  Jerusalem,  by  the  very  road  we  were 
travelling. 

During  the  day  the  path  struck  inland  over  a  vast  rollmf 
plain,  covered  with  sage,  lavender  and  other  sweet-sinelliug 
shrubs,  and  tenanted  by  herds  of  gazelles  and  nocks  of  large 
storks.  As  we  advanced  further,  the  landscape  became  singu 
larly  beautiful.  It  was  a  broad,  shallow  valley,  swelling  away 
towards  the  east  into  low,  rolling  hills,  far  back  of  which  rose 
the  blue  line  of  the  mountains — the  hill-country  of  Judea. 
The  soil,  where  it  was  ploughed,  was  the  richest  vegetable  loam. 
Where  it  lay  fallow  it  was  entirely  hidden  by  a  bed  of  grass 
and  camomile.  Here  and  there  great  herds  of  sheep  and  goats 
browsed  on  the  herbage.  There  was  a  quiet  pastoral  air  about 
the  landscape,  a  soft  serenity  in  its  forms  and  colors,  as  if  the 
Hebrew  patriarchs  still  made  it  their  abode.  The  district  is 
famous  for  robbers,  and  we  kept  our  arms  in  readiness,  never 
Buffering  the  baggage  to  be  out  of  our  sight. 

Towards  evening,  as  Mr.  H.  and  myself,  with  Francois, 
were  riding  in  advance  of  the  baggage  mules,  the  former  with 
his  gun  in  his  hand,  I  with  a  pair  of  pistols  thrust  through  the 
folds  of  my  shawl,  and  Frangois  with  his  long  Turkish  sabre, 
we  came  suddenly  upon  a  lonely  Englishman,  whose  com- 
panions were  somewhere  in  the  rear.  He  appeared  to  be 
struck  with  terror  on  seeing  us  making  towards  him,  and, 
turning  his  horse's  head,  made  an  attempt  to  fly.  The  animal, 
aowever,  was  restive,  and,  after  a  few  plunges,  refused  to 
move.  The  traveller  gave  himself  up  for  lost  ;  his  arms 
dropped  by  his  side  ;  he  stared  wildly  at  us,  with  pale  face 
and  eyes  opened  wide  with  a  look  of  helpless  fright.  Restrain 


EL    IIARAM  48 

Ing  with  difficul'y  a  snout  of  laughter,  I  said  to  him  :  "Did 
you  leave  Jaffa  to-day  ?"  but  so  completely  was  his  ear  the 
fool  of  his  imagination,  that  he  thought  I  was  speaking 
Arabic,  and  made  a  faint  attempt  to  get  out  the  only  word  07 
two  of  that  language  which  he  knew.  I  then  repeated,  with 
as  much  distinctness  as  I  could  command  :  "  Did — you — leave 
— Jaffa — to-day  ?"  He  stammered  mechanically,  through  hi? 
chattering  teeth,  "  Y-y-yes  !"  and  we  immediately  dashed  oft 
at  a  gallop  through  the  bushes.  When  we  last  saw  him  he 
*vas  standing  as  we  left  him,  apparently  not  yet  recovered 
from  the  shock. 

At  the  little  village  of  El  Harara,  where  we  spent  the 
night,  I  visited  the  tomb  of  Sultan  Ali  ebn-A  leym.  who  is  now 
revered  as  a  saint.  It  is  enclosed  in  a  mosque,  crowning  the 
top  of  a  hill.  I  was  admitted  into  the  court-yard  without 
hesitation,  though,  from  the  porter  styling  me  "Effendi,"he 
probably  took  me  for  a  Turk.  At  the  entrance  to  the  inner 
court,  I  took  off  my  slippers  and  walked  to  the  tomb  of  the 
Sultan — a  square  heap  of  white  marble,  in  a  small  marble 
enclosure.  In  one  of  the  niches  in  the  wall,  near  the  tomb, 
there  is  a  very  old  iron  box,  with  a  slit  in  the  top.  The  por 
ter  informed  me  that  it  contained  a  charm,  belonging  to  Sul 
tan  Ali,  which  was  of  great  use  in  producing  rain  in  tunes  of 
drouth. 

In  the  morning  we  sent  our  baggage  by  a  short  road  across 
the  country  to  this  place,  and  then  rode  down  the  beacb 
towards  Jaffa.  The  sun  came  out  bright  and  hot  as  we  paced 
along  the  line  of  spray,  our  horses'  feet  sinking  above  the  fet> 
locks  in  pink  and  purple  shells,  while  the  droU  sea-crabs  scam 
pered  away  from  our  path,  and  the  blue  gelatine  us  sea-nettles 


46  THE     LANDS     OF     THE     SARACEN. 

were  tossed  before  us  by  the  surge.  Our  view  was  confined  tc 
the  sand-hills — sometimes  covered  with  a  flood  of  scarlet  pop 
pies — on  one  hand;  and  to  the  blue,  surf-fringed  sea  ou  th« 
other.  The  terrible  coast  was  still  lined  with  wrecks,  and 
just  before  reaching  the  town,  we  passed  a  vessel  of  some  two 
hundred  tons,  recently  cast  ashore,  with  her  strong  hull  still 
uii broken.  We  forded  the  rapid  stream  of  El  Aujeh,  which 
comes  down  from  the  Plain  of  Sharon,  the  water  rising  to  our 
saddles.  The  low  promontory  in  front  now  broke  into  towers 
and  white  domes,  and  great  masses  of  heavy  walls.  The 
aspect  of  Jaffa  is  exceedingly  picturesque.  It  is  built  on  a 
hill,  and  the  land  for  many  miles  around  it  being  low  and  Hat, 
its  topmost  houses  overlook  all  the  fields  of  Sharon.  The  old 
harbor,  protected  by  a  reef  of  rocks,  is  on  the  north  side  of 
the  town,  but  is  now  so  sanded  up  that  large  vessels  cannot 
enter.  A  number  of  small  craft  were  lying  close  to  the  shore. 
The  port  presented  a  different  scene  when  the  ships  of  Hiram, 
King  of  Tyre,  came  in  with  the  materials  for  the  Temple  of 
Solomon.  There  is  but  one  gate  on  the  land  side,  which 
is  rather  strongly  fortified.  Outside  of  this  there  is  an  open 
space,  which  we  i'ound  filled  with  venders  of  oranges  and  vege- 
tables, camel-men  and  the  like,  some  vociferating  in  loud  dis- 
pute, some  given  up  to  silence  and  smoke,  under  the  shade  of 
the  sycamores. 

We  rode  under  the  heavily  arched  and  towered  gateway, 
and  entered  the  bazaar.  The  street  was  crowded,  and  there 
was  such  a  confusion  of  camels,  donkeys,  and  men,  that 
we  made  our  way  with  difficulty  along  the  only  practicable 
street  in  the  city,  to  the  sea-side,  where  Francois  pointed  out 
a  hole  in  the  trail  as  the  veritable  spot  where  Jonah  was  cas' 


JAFFA.  47 

ashore  by  the  whale.  This  part  of  the  harbor  is  the  recep 
tacle  of  all  the  offal  of  the  town  ;  and  I  do  not  woudet 
that  the  whale's  stomach  should  Lave  turned  on  approaching 
it.  The  sea-street  was  filled  with  merchants  and  traders,  and 
we  were  obliged  to  pick  our  way  between  bars  of  iron,  skins 
of  oil,  heaps  of  oranges,  and  piles  of  building  timber.  At  last 
we  reached  the  end,  and,  as  there  was  no  other  thoroughfare, 
returned  the  same  way  we  went,  passed  out  the  gate,  and  took 
the  road  to  Ramleh  and  Jerusalem. 

But  1  hear  the  voice  of  Francois,  announcing,  "  Messieurs,  It 
diner  est  pret."  We  are  encamped  just  beside  the  pool  of 
Ramleh,  and  the  mongrel  children  of  the  town  are  making 
a  great  noise  in  the  meadow  below  it.  Our  horses  are  enjoy- 
ing their  barley  ;  and  Mustapha  stands  at  the  tent-door  tying 
np  his  sacks.  Dogs  are  barking  and  donkeys  braying  all 
along  the  borders  of  the  town,  whose  filth  and  dilapidation 
are  happily  concealed  by  the  fig  and  olive  gardens  which  sur- 
round it.  I  have  not  curiosity  enough  to  visit  the  Greek  and 
Latin  Convents  embedded  in  its  foul  purlieus,  but  content 
myself  with  gazing  from  my  door  upon  the  blue  hills  of 
Palestine,  which  we  must  cross  to-morrow,  on  our  way  tc 
Jerusalem. 


48  THl  LANDS  OF  THK  SARACBW. 


CHAPTER   III. 

FROM    JAFFA    TO    JERUSALEM. 

fhe  Garden  of  Jaffa— Breakfast  at  a  Fountain— The  Plain  of  Sharon— The  Roinai 
Mosque  of  Ramleh— A  Judean  Landscape — The  Streets  of  Ramleh— Am  I  in  Pale* 
tine  f— A  Heavenly  Morning— The  Land  of  Milk  and  Honey— Entering  the  Hill- 
Country— The  Pilgrim's  Breakfast— The  Father  of  Lies— A  Church  of  the  Crusaden 
—The  Agriculture  of  the  Hills — The  Valley  of  Elah— Day-Dreams — The  WilderneM 
—The  Approach — We  see  the  Holy  City. 

"  Through  the  air  sublime, 

Orer  the  wilderness  and  o'er  the  plain ; 
Till  underneath  them  'air  Jerusalem, 
The  Holy  Oity,  lifted  high  her  towers." 

PAXADIBK  RKOAWKD. 

JBROSALKM,  Thursday,  April  29,  I860. 

LEAVING  the  gate  of  Jaffa,  we  rode  eastward  between  delight- 
ful gardens  of  fig,  citron,  orauge,  pomegranate  and  palm.  The 
country  for  several  miles  around  the  city  is  a  complete  level- 
part  of  the  great  plain  of  Sharon — and  the  gray  mass  of 
building  crowning  the  little  promontory,  is  the  only  landmark 
seen  above  the  green  garden-land,  on  looking  towards  the  sea 
rhc  road  was  lined  with  hedges  of  giant  cactus,  now  in  bios- 
lorn,  and  shaded  occasionally  witli  broad-armed  sycamores 
The  orange  trees  were  in  bloom,  and  at  the  same  time  laden 
lown  with  ripe  fruit.  The  oranges  of  Jaffa  are  the  finest  in 
iyria,  aud  great  numbers  of  them  are  sent  to  Beyrout  and 


THE     PLAIN     OF     SHARON.  49 

other  ports  further  north..  The  dark  fcliage  of  the  pome- 
granate fairly  blazed  with  its  heavy  scarlet  blossoms,  aid  here 
and  there  a  cluster  of  roses  made  good  the  Scriptural  renown 
of  those  of  Sharoa.  The  road  was  filled  with  people,  passing 
to  and  fro,  and  several  families  of  Jaffa  Jews  were  having  a 
sort  of  pic-nic  in  the  choice  shady  spots. 

Ere  long  we  came  to  a  fountain,  at  a  point  where  two  road 
met.  It  was  a  large  square  structure  of  limestone  and  marble, 
with  a  stone  trough  in  front,  and  a  delightful  open  chamber  at 
the  side.  The  space  in  front  was  shaded  with  immense  syca- 
more trees,  to  which  we  tied  our  horses,  and  then  took  our  seats 
in  the  window  above  the  fountain,  where  the  Greek  brought  us 
our  breakfast.  The  water  was  cool  and  delicious,  as  were  our 
Jaffa  oranges.  It  was  a  charming  spot,  i\/r  as  we  sat  we  could 
look  under  the  boughs  of  the  great  trees,  and  down  between 
the  gardens  to  Jaffa  and  the  Mediterranean.  After  leaving 
the  gardens,  we  came  upon  the  great  plain  of  Sharon,  on  which 
we  could  see  the  husbandmen  at  work  far  and  near,  ploughing 
and  sowing  their  grain.  In  some  instances,  the  two  operations 
were  made  simultaneously,  by  having  a  sort  of  funnel  attached 
to  the  plough-handle,  running  into  a  tube  which  entered  the 
earth  just  behind  the  share.  The  man  held  the  plough  with 
one  hand,  wh'ile  with  the  other  he  dropped  the  requisite  quan- 
tity of  seed  through  the  tube  into  the  furrow.  The  people  are 
ploughing  now  for  their  summer  crops,  and  the  wheat  and  Dar 
ley  which  they  sowed  last  winter  are  already  in  full  head.  On 
other  parts  of  the  plain,  there  were  large  flocks  of  sheep  and 
goats,  with  their  attendant  shepherds.  So  ran  the  rich  land- 
scape, broken  only  by  belts  of  olive  trees,  to  the  far  hills  of 
Judea 


60  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN . 

Riding  on  over  the  long,  low  swells,  fragrant  with  wild 
thyme  and  camomile,  we  saw  at  last  the  tower  of  Ramlet,  and 
down  the  valley,  an  hour's  ride  to  the  north-east,  the  minaret 
of  Lndd,  the  ancient  Lydda.  Still  further,  I  could  see  the 
houses  of  the  village  of  Sharon,  embowered  in  olives.  Ramleh 
is  built  along  the  crest  and  on  the  eastern  slope  of  a  low  hill, 
and  at  &  distance  appears  like  a  stately  place,  but  this  impres- 
sion is  immediately  dissipated  on  entering  it.  West  of  the 
town  is  a  large  square  tower,  between  eighty  and  ninety  feet  in 
height.  We  rode  up  to  it  through  an  orchard  of  ancient  olive 
trees,  and  over  a  field  of  beans.  The  tower  is  evidently  a  min- 
aret, as  it  is  built  in  the  purest  Saracenic  style,  and  is  sur- 
rounded by  the  ruins  of  a  mosque.  I  have  rarely  seen  any- 
thing more  graceful  than  the  ornamental  arches  of  the  uppei 
portions.  Over  the  door  is  a  lintel  of  white  marble,  with  an 
Arabic  inscription.  The  mosque  to  which  the  tower  is  attached 
s  almost  entirely  destroyed,  and  only  part  of  the  arches  of  a 
corridor  around  three  sides  of  a  court-yard,  \v'th  the  fountain 
in  the  centre,  still  remain.  The  subterranean  cisterns,  umk>r 
the  court-yard,  amazed  me  with  their  extent  and  magnitude 
They  are  no  less  than  twenty-four  feet  deep,  and  covered  by 
twenty-four  vaulted  ceilings,  each  twelve  feet  square,  and  rest- 
ing on  massive  pillars.  The  mosque,  when  entire,  must  have 
been  one  of  the  finest  in  Syria. 

We  clambered  over  the  broken  stones  cumbering  the  entrance, 
and  mounted  the  steps  to  the  very  summit.  The  view  reached 
from  Jaffa  and  the  sea  to  the  mountains  near  Jerusalem,  and 
southward  to  the  plain  of  Ascalon — a  great  expanse  of  grain 
and  grazing  laud,  all  blossoming  as  the  rose,  and  dotted,  espe- 
cially near  the  mountains,  with  dark,  luxuriant  olive-groves. 


AM    I    IN    PALESTINE?  51 

The  landscape  had  something  of  the  green,  pastoral  beauty  of 
England,  except  the  mountains,  which  were  wholly  of  Palestine 
The  shadows  of  fleecy  clouds,  drifting  slowly  from  east  to  west, 
moved  across  the  landscape,  which  became  every  moment  softe 
and  fairer  in  the  light  of  the  declining  sun. 

I  did  not  tarry  in  Ramleh.  The  streets  are  narrow,  crooked, 
and  filthy  as  only  an  Oriental  town  can  be.  The  houses  have 
either  flat  roofs  or  domes,  out  of  the  crevices  in  which  springs 
a  plentiful  crop  of  weeds.  Some  yellow  dogs  barked  at  us  as 
we  passed,  children  in  tattered  garments  stared,  and  old  tur- 
baned  heads  were  raised  from  the  pipe,  to  guess  who  the  two 
brown  individuals  might  be,  and  why  they  were  attended  by 
such  a  fierce  cawass.  Passing  through  the  eastern  gate,  we 
were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  our  tents,  already  pitched  in 
the  meadow  beside  the  cistern.  Dervish  had  arrived  an  hour 
before  us,  and  had  everything  ready  for  the  sweet  lounge  of  an 
hour,  to  which  we  treat  ourselves  after  a  day's  ride.  I  watched 
the  evening  fade  away  over  the  blue  hills  before  us,  and  tried 
to  convince  myself  that  I  should  reach  Jerusalem  on  the  mor- 
row. Reason  said  :  "  You  certainly  will  I" — but  to  Faith  the 
Holy  City  was  as  far  off  as  ever.  Was  it  posoible  that  I  was 
in  Judea  ?  Was  this  the  Holy  Land  of  the  Crusades,  the  soil 
hallowed  by  the  feet  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles  ?  I  must 
believe  it.  Yet  it  seemed  once  that  if  I  ever  trod  that  earth, 
then  beneath  my  feet,  there  would  be  thenceforth  a  consecra 
tion  in  my  Me,  a  holy  essence,  a  purer  inspiration  on  the  lips, 
a  surer  faith  in  the  heart.  And  because  I  was  not  other  that 
I  had  been,  I  half  doubted  whether  it  was  the  Palestine  of 
my  dreams. 

A  lumber  of  Arab  cameleers,  who  had  come  with  travellers 


52  THE;   LANDS   OF   THE   SARACEN. 

across  the  Desert  from  Egypt,  were  encamped  near  us.  Fran- 
c.ois  was  suspicious  of  some  of  them,  and  therefore  divided  the 
night  into  three  watches,  which  were  kept  by  himself  aud  OUT 
two  men.  Mustapha  was  the  last,  and  kept  not  only  himself 
but  myself,  wide  awake  by  his  dolorous  chants  of  love  and  reli 
gion.  I  fell  sound  asleep  at  dawn,  but  was  roused  before 
sunrise  by  FrauQois,  who  wished  to  start  betimes,  on  account 
of  the  rugged  road  we  had  to  travel.  The  morning  was 
mild,  clear,  and  balmy,  and  we  were  soon  packed  and  in 
motion.  Leaving  the  baggage  to  follow,  \ve  rode  ahead 
over  the  fertile  fields.  The  wheat  and  poppies  were  glistening 
with  dew,  birds  sang  among  the  fig-trees,  a  cool  breeze  came 
down  from  the  hollows  of  the  hills,  and  my  blood  leaped 
as  nimbly  and  joyously  as  a  young  hart  on  the  mountains  of 
Bether. 

Between  Ramleh  and  the  hill-country,  a  distance  of  about 
eight  miles,  is  the  rolling  plain  of  Arimathea,  and  this,  as  well 
as  the  greater  part  of  the  plain  of  Sharon,  is  one  of  the  richest 
districts  in  the  world.  The  soil  is  a  dark-brown  loam,  aud, 
without  manure,  produces  annually  superb  crops  of  wheat  and 
barley.  We  rode  for  miles  through  a  sea  of  wheat,  waving 
far  and  wide  over  the  swells  of  laud.  The  tobacco  in  the  fields 
about  Ramleh  was  the  most  luxuriant  I  ever  saw,  and  the 
olive  and  fig  attain  a  size  and  lusty  strength  wholly  unknown 
iu  Italy.  Judea  cursed  of  God  !  what  a  misconception,  not 
jnly  of  God's  mercy  aud  beneficence,  but  of  the  actual  fact  1 
Give  Palestine  into  Christian  hands,  and  it  will  again  flow  with 
uiilk  and  honey.  Except  some  parts  of  Asia  Minor,  no  por- 
tion of  the  Levant  is  capable  of  yielding  such  a  harvest  of 
ir.,  silk,  wool,  fruits,  oil,  and  wine.  The  great  disadvautagt 


ENTERING    THE    HILL-COUNTRY.  58 

under  which  the  country  labors,  is  its  frequent  drouths, 
bat  were  the  soil  more  generally  cultivated,  and  the  old 
orchards  replanted,  these  would  neither  be  so  frequent  nor  so 
severe. 

We  gradually  ascended  the  hills,  passing  one  or  two  villages, 
imbedded  in  gropes  of  olives.  In  the  little  valleys,  slanting 
down  lo  the  plains,  the  Arabs  were  still  ploughing  and  sowing, 
singing  the  while  an  old  love-song,  with  its  chorus  of  "  ya, 
gkazake!  ya, ghazake!"  (oh,  gazelle  1  oh,  gazelle!)  The  valley 
narrowed,  the  lowlands  behind  us  spread  out  broader,  and  in 
half  an  hour  more  we  were  threading  ^narrow  pass,  between 
stony  hills,  overgrown  with  ilex,  myrtle,  and  dwarf  oak.  The 
wild  purple  rose  of  Palestine  blossomed  on  all  sides,  and  a  fra- 
grant white  honeysuckle  in  some  places  hung  from  the  rocks. 
The  path  was  terribly  rough,  and  barely  wide  enough  for  two 
persons  on  horseback  to  pass  each  other.  We  met  a  few  pil- 
grims returning  from  Jerusalem,  and  a  straggling  company  of 
armed  Turks,  who  had  such  a  piratical  air,  that  without  the 
solemn  asseveration  of  Frangois  that  the  road  was  quite  safe, 
I  should  have  felt  uneasy  about  our  baggage.  Most  of  tho 
persons  we  passed  were  Mussulmen,  few  of  whom  gave  the 
customary  "  Peace  be  with  you  1"  but  once  a  Syrian  Christian 
saluted  me  with,  "God  go  with  you,  O  Pilgrim  1"  For 
two  hours  after  entering  the  mountains,  there  was  scarcely 
.11  oc  cultivation.  The  rock  was  limestone,  or  marble, 
lying  in  horizontal  strata,  the  broken  edges  of  which  rose  like 
terraces  to  the  summits.  These  shelves  were  so  covered  with 
wild  shrubs — in  some  places  even  with  rows  of  olive  trees — 
that  to  me  they  had  not  the  least  appearance  of  that  desolu 
tion  so  generally  ascribed  to  them 


54  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACBM. 

In  a  little  dell  among  the  hills  there  is  a  small  rniued  mosque 
or  chapel  (I  could  not  decide  which),  shaded  by  a  group  of 
magnificent  terebinth  trees.  Several  Arabs  were  resting  in  it* 
shade,  and  we  hoped  to  find  there  the  water  we  were  looking 
for,  in  order  to  make  breakfast.  But  it  was  not  to  be  found, 
and  we  climbed  nearly  to  the  summit  of  the  first  chain  of  hills, 
svhere  in  a  small  olive  orchard,  there  was  a  cistern,  filled  b} 
the  late  rains.  It  belonged  to  two  ragged  boys,  who  brought 
as  an  earthen  vessel  of  the  water,  and  then  asked,  "  Shall  we 
bring  you  milk,  0  Pilgrims  !"  I  assented,  and  received  a  small 
jug  of  thick  buttermilk,  not  remarkably  clean,  but  very  refresh- 
ing. My  companion,  who  had  not  recovered  from  his  horror  at 
finding  that  the  inhabitants  of  Ramleh  washed  themselves  in 
the  pool  which  supplied  us  and  them,  refused  to  touch  it.  We 
made  but  a  short  rest,  for  it  was  now  nearly  noon,  and  there 
were  yet  many  rough  miles  between  us  and  Jerusalem.  We 
arossed  the  first  chain  of  mountains,  rode  a  short  distance  over 
a  stony  upland,  and  then  descended  into  a  long  cultivated 
valley,  running  to  the  eastward.  At  the  end  nearest  us 
appeared  the  village  of  Aboo  '1  Ghosh  (the  Father  of  Lies) 
which  takes  its  name  from  a  noted  Bedouin  shekh,  who  distin 
guished  himself  a  few  years  ago  by  levying  contributions  on 
travellers.  He  obtained  a  large  sum  of  money  in  this  way, 
but  as  he  added  murder  to  robbery,  and  fell  upon  lurks  an- 
well  as  Christians,  he  was  finally  captured,  and  is  now  expi 
ating  his  offences  in  some  mine  on  the  coast  of  the  Black 
Sea. 

Near  the  bottom  of  the  village  there  is  a  large  ruined  build- 
ing, now  used  as  a  stable  ty  the  inhabitants.  The  interior  w 
divided  into  a  nave  and  two  sideaisles  by  rows  of  square 


AGRICULTURE     OF     THE     HILLS  55 

pillars,  frDm  which  spring  pointed  arches.  The  door-way  is  at 
the  side,  and  is  Gothic,  with  a  dash  of  Saracenic  in  the  orna- 
mental mouldings  above  it.  The  large  window  at  the  extremity 
of  the  nave  is  remarkable  for  having  round  arches,  which  circum- 
stance, together  with  the  traces  of  arabesque  painted  ornaments 
an  the  columns,  led  me  to  think  it  might  have  been  a  mosque  ; 
hut  Dr.  Robinson,  who  is  now  here,  considers  it  a  Christian 
church,  of  the  time  of  the  Crusaders.  The  village  of  Aboo  '1 
Ghosh  is  said  to  be  the  site  of  the  birth-place  of  the  Prophet 
Jeremiah,  and  I  can  well  imagine  it  to  have  been  the  case. 
The  aspect  of  the  mountain-country  to  the  east  and  north-east 
would  explain  the  savage  dreariness  of  his  lamentations.  The 
whole  valley  in  which  the  village  stands,  as  well  as  another 
which  joins  it  on  the  east,  is  most  assiduously  cultivated.  The 
«tony  mountain  sides  are  wrought  into  terraces,  where,  in  spite 
of  soil  which  resembles  an  American  turnpike,  patches  of 
wheat  are  growing  luxuriantly,  and  olive  trees,  centuries  old, 
hold  on  to  the  rocks  with  a  clutch  as  hard  and  bony  as  the 
hand  of  Death.  In  the  bed  of  the  valley  the  fig  tree  thrives, 
iuid  sometimes  the  vine  and  fig  grow  together,  forming  tht 
patriarchial  arbor  of  shade  familiar  to  us  all.  The  shoots  of 
the  tree  are  still  young  and  green,  but  the  blossoms  of  the 
grape  do  not  yet  give  forth  their  goodly  savor.  I  did  not 
hear  the  voice  of  the  turtle,  but  a  nightingale  sang  in  the 
briery  thickets  by  the  brooknde,  as  we  passed  along. 

Climbing  out  of  this  valley,  we  descended  by  a  stony  stair- 
case, as  rugged  as  the  Ladder  of  Tyre,  in  the  Wady  Beit 
Ilanineh.  Here  were  gardens  of  oranges  in  blossom,  With 
orchards  of  quince  and  apple,  overgrown  with  vines,  and  the 
fragrant  hawthorn  tree,  snowy  with  its  bloom.  A  stone 


56  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

bridge,  the  only  one  on  the  road,  crosses  the  dry  bed  of  t 
winter  stream,  and,  looking  up  the  glen,  I  saw  the  Arab 
village  of  Kulonieh,  at  the  entrance  of  the  valley  of  Elah, 
glorious  with  the  memories  of  the  shepherd-boy,  David.  Oui 
road  turned  off  to  the  right,  and  commenced  ascending  a  long, 
dry  glen  between  mountains  >  which  grew  more  sterile  the 
further  we  «fent.  It  was  nearly  two  hours  past  uoon,  the  sun 
fiercely  hot,  and  our  horses  were  nigh  jaded  out  with  the  rough 
road  and  our  impatient  spurring.  I  began  to  fancy  we  could 
see  Jerusalem  from  the  top  of  the  pass,  and  tried  to  think  of 
the  ancient  days  of  Judea.  But  it  was  in  vain.  A  newer 
picture  shut  them  out,  and  banished  even  the  diviner  images 
of  Our  Saviour  and  His  Disciples.  Heathen  that  I  was,  1 
could  only  think  of  Godfrey  and  the  Crusaders,  toiling  up  the 
same  path,  and  the  ringing  lines  of  Tasso  vibrated  constantly 
in  my  ear : 

4  Ecco  apparir  Gierusalemm'  si  vede ; 
Ecco  additar  Gierusalemm'  si  scorge  ; 
Ecco  da  mille  voci  unitamente, 
Gierusalemme  salutar  ai  sente !" 

The  Palestine  of  the  Bible — the  Land  of  Promise  to  the 
Israelites,  the  land  of  Miracle  and  Sacrifice  to  the  Apostles 
and  thek1  followers — still  slept  in  the  unattainable  distance, 
under  a  sky  of  bluer  and  more  tranquil  loveliness  than  that  to 
whose  cloudless  vault  I  looked  up.  It  lay  as  far  and  beautiful 
as  it  once  seemed  to  the  eye  of  childhood,  and  the  swords  oi 
Seraphim  kept  profane  feet  from  its  sacred  hills.  But  these 
rough  rocks  around  me,  these  dry,  fiery  hollows,  these  thickets 
of  ancient  oak  and  ilex,  had  heard  the  trumpets  of  the  Middle 


THE     APPROACH    TO    THE    HOLT    CIIY,  57 

Ages,  and  the  clang  and  clatter  of  European  armor — I  could 
feel  and  believe  that.  I  entered  the  ranks  ;  I  followed  the 
trumpets  and  the  holy  hymns,  and  waited  breathlessly  for  the 
mcment  when  every  mailed  knee  should  drop  in  the  dust,  and 
every  bearded  and  sunburned  cheek  be  wet  with  devotional 
tears. 

But  when  I  climbed  the  last  ridge,  and  looked  ahead  with 
a  sort  of  painful  suspense,  Jerusalem  did  not  appear.  We 
were  two  thousand  feet  above  the  Mediterranean,  whose  blue 
we  could  dimly  see  far  to  the  west,  through  notches  in  the 
chain  of  hills.  To  the  north,  the  mountains  were  gray, 
desolate,  and  awful.  Not  a  shrub  or  a  tree  relieved  their 
frightful  barrenness.  An  upland  tract,  covered  with  white 
volcanic  rock,  lay  before  us.  We  met  peasants  with  asses,  who 
looked  (to  my  eyes)  as  if  they  had  just  left  Jerusalem.  Still 
forward  we  urged  our  horses,  and  reacned  a  ruined  garden, 
surrounded  with  hedges  of  cactus,  over  which  I  saw  domes 
and  walls  in  the  distance.  I  drew  a  long  breath  and  looked  at 
Francois.  He  was  jogging  along  without  turning  his  head ; 
he  could  not  have  been  so  indifferent  if  that  was  really  the 
city.  Presently,  we  reached  another  slight  rise  in  the  rocky 
plain.  He  began  to  urge  his  panting  horse,  and  at  the  same 
instant  we  both  lashed  the  spirit  into  ours,  dashed  on  at  a 
break-neck  gallop,  round  the  corner  of  an  old  wall  on  the  top 
of  the  hill,  and  lo  !  the  Holy  City  1  Our  Greek  jerked  both 
pistols  from  his  holsters,  and  fired  them  into  the  air,  as  we 
reined  up  on  the  steep 

From  the  descriptions  of  travellers,  I  had  expected  to  see  in 
Jerusalem  an  ordinary  modern  Turkish  town  ;  but  that  before 

uie,  with  its  w  ills,  fortresses,  and  domes,  was  it  not  still  the 

* 


58  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

City  of  David  ?  1  saw  the  Jerusalem  of  the  New  Testament 
as  I  had  imagined  it.  Long  lines  of  walls  crowned  with  a 
notched  parapet  and  strengthened  by  towers;  a  few  domes  and 
spires  above  them;  clusters  of  cypress  here  and  there;  this 
was  all  that  was  visible  of  the  city.  On  either  side  the  hiL 
sloped  down  to  the  two  deep  valleys  over  which  it  hangs.  Oil 
the  east,  the  Mount  of  Olives,  crowned  with  a  chapel  and 
mosque,  rose  high  and  steep,  but  in  front,  the  eye  passed 
directly  over  the  city,  to  rest  far  away  upon  the  lofty  moun- 
tains of  Moab,  beyond  the  Dead  Sea.  The  scene  was  grand  in 
its  simplicity.  The  prominent  colors  were  the  purple  of  those 
distant  mountains,  and  the  hoary  gray  of  the  nearer  hills.  T>  je 
walls  were  of  the  dull  yellow  of  weather-stained  marble,  and 
the  only  trees,  the  dark  cypress  and  moonlit  olive.  Now, 
indeed,  for  one  brief  moment,  I  knew  that  I  was  in  Palestine : 
that  I  saw  Mount  Olivet  and  Mount  Zion;  and — I  know  not 
how  it  was — my  sight  grew  weak,  and  all  objects  trembled  and 
wavered  in  a  watery  film.  Since  we  arrived,  I  have  looked 
down  upon  the  city  from  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  up  to  it 
from  the  Valley  of  Jehosaphat;  but  I  cannot  restore  the 
illusion  of  that  first  view. 

We  allowed  our  horses  to  walk  slowly  down  the  remaining 
half-mile  to  the  Jaffa  gate.  An  Englishman,  with  a  red  silk 
shawl  over  his  head,  was  sketching  the  city,  while  an  Arab 
held  an  umbrella  over  him.  Inside  the  gate  we  stumbled  upon 
an  Italian  shop  with  an  Italian  sign,  and  after  threading  a 
number  of  intricate  passages  under  dark  archways,  and  being 
turned  off  from  one  hotel,  which  was  full  of  travellers,  reached 
another,  kept  by  a  converted  German  Jew,  where  we  found  Dr. 
Robinson  and  Dr.  Ely  Smith,  who  both  arrived  yesterday.  It 


JFJ1I7SAJLEM. 


sounds  strange  to  talk  of  a  hotel  in  Jerusalem,  but  the  world 
is  progressing,  and  there  are  already  three.  I  leave  to-mor 
row  for  Jericho,  the  Jordan,  and  the  Dead  Sea,  and  shall  have 
more  to  say  of  Jerusalem  on  ray  return 


<»0  THE    LANDS     OF    THE 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  DEAD  SEA  AND  THE  RIVER  JORDAM 


Bargaining  for  a  Guard  —  Departure  from  Jerusalem  —  The  Hill  of  Offenc 
The  Grotto  of  Lazarus—  The  Valley  of  Fire—  Scenery  of  the  Wilderness—  The  Hills  o 
Kngudili  —  The  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea  —  A  Bituminous  Bath  —  Gallop  to  the  Jordan— 
A  watch  for  Robbers  —  The  Jordan  —  Baptism  —  The  Plains  of  Jericho  —  The  Fountain 
•f  Elisha—  The  Mount  of  Temptation—  Return  to  Jerusalem. 

"  And  the  spoiler  shall  come  upon  every  city,  and  no  city  shall  escape  ;  the  valley 
also  shall  perish  and  the  plain  shall  be  destroyed,  as  the  Lord  hath  spoken."  — 
JEREMIAH,  xlviil.  8. 

JERUSALEM,  May  1,  1852. 

I  RETURNED  this  afternoon  from  an  excursion  to  the  Dead  Sea, 
the  River  Jordan,  and  the  site  of  Jericho.  Owing  to  the 
approaching  heats,  an  early  visit  was  deemed  desirable,  and  the 
shekhs,  who  have  charge  of  the  road,  were  summoned  to  meet 
us  on  the  day  after  we  arrived  There  are  two  of  these 
gentlemen,  the  Shekh  el-Arab  (of  the  Bedouins),  and  the 
Shekh  el-Fellaheen  (of  the  peasants,  or  husbandmen),  to  whom 
curls  traveller  is  obliged  to  pay  one  hundered  piastres  for  an 
escort.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  compromise,  by  which  the 
shekhs  agree  not  to  rob  the  traveller,  and  to  protect  him 
against  other  shekhs.  If  the  road  is  not  actually  safe,  the 
Turkish  garrison  here  is  a  mere  farce,  but  the  arrangement  is 
winked  at  by  the  Pasha,  whot  of  Bourse,  gets  his  share  of  thf 


DEPARTURE  FROM  JERUSALEM.  61 

100,000  piastres  which  the  two  scamps  yearly  levy  upon 
travellers  The  sliekhs  cauie  to  our  rooms,  and  after  trying  to 
postpone  our  departure,  in  order  to  attach  other  tourists  to  the 
same  escort,  and  thus  save  a  little  expense,  took  half  the  pay 
and  agreed  to  be  ready  the  next  morning.  Unfortunately  for 
my  original  plan,  the  Convent  of  San  Saba  has  been  closed 
within  two  or  three  weeks,  and  no  stranger  is  now  admitted. 
This  unusual  step  was  caused  by  the  disorderly  conduct  of  some 
Frenchmen  who  visited  San  Saba.  We  sent  to  the  Bishop  of 
the  Greek  Church,  asking  a  simple  permission  to  view  the 
interior  of  the  Convent;  but  without  effect. 

We  left  the  city  yesterday  morning  by  St.  Stephen's  Gate, 
descended  to  the  Valley  of  Jehosaphat,  rode  under  the  stone 
wall  which  encloses  the  supposed  Gethsemaiie,  and  took  a  path 
leading  along  the  Mount  of  Olives,  towards  the  Hill  of 
Offence,  which  stands  over  agaiost  the  southern  end  of  the  city, 
opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Vale  of  Hinnon.  Neither  of  the 
shekhs  made  his  appearance,  but  sent  in  their  stead  three 
Arabs,  two  of  whom  were  mounted  and  armed  with  sabres  and 
long  guns.  Our  man,  Mustapha,  had  charge  of  the  baggage- 
uiule,  carrying  our  tent  and  the  provisions  for  the  trip.  It  was 
a  dull,  sultry  morning  ;  a  dark,  leaden  haze  hung  over  Jerusa- 
lem, and  the  khamseen,  or  sirocco-wind,  came  from  the  south- 
west, out  of  the  Arabian  Desert.  We  had  again  resumed  the 
Oriental  costume,  but  in  spite  of  an  ample  turban,  my  fact 
soon  began  to  scorch  in  the  dry  heat.  From  the  crest  of  the 
Hill  of  Offence  there  is  a  wide  view  over  the  heights  on  both 
sides  of  the  valley  of  the  Brook  Kedron.  Their  sides  are 
worked  into  terraces,  now  green  with  springing  grain,  and  LV&I 
the  bottom  planted  with  olive  .^  fig  trees  The  upland  ridgr 


62  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEM. 

or  watershed  of  Palestine  is  cultivated  for  a  considerable 
distance  around  Jerusalem.  The  soil  is  light  and  stony,  yet 
appears  to  yield  a  good  return  for  the  little  labor  bestowed 
upon  it. 

Crossing  the  southern  flank  of  Mount  Olivet,  in  half  an  hour 
we  reached  the  village  of  Bethany,  hanging  on  the  side  ot  the 
bill.  It  is  a  miserable  cluster  of  Arab  huts,  with  not  a  building 
which  appears  to  be  more  than  a  century  old.  The  Grotto  of 
Lazarus  is  here  shown,  and,  of  course,  we  stopped  to  see  it. 
It  belongs  to  an  old  Mussulman,  who  came  out  of  his  house  with 
a  piece  of  waxed  rope,  to  light  us  down.  An  aperture  opens 
ftom  the  roadside  into  the  hill,  and  there  is  barely  room  enough 
for  a  person  to  enter.  Descending  about  twenty  steps  at  a 
sharp  angle,  we  landed  in  a  small,  damp  vault,  with  an  opening 
in  the  floor,  communicating  with  a  short  passage  below.  The 
vault  was  undoubtedly  excavated  for  sepulchral  purposes,  and 
the  bodies  were  probably  deposited  (as  in  many  Egyptian 
tombs)  in  the  pit  under  it.  Our  guide,  however,  pointed  to  a 
square  mass  of  masonry  in  one  corner  as  the  tomb  of  Lazarus, 
whose  body,  he  informed  us,  was  still  walled  up  there.  There 
was  an  arch  in  the  side  of  the  vault,  once  leading  to  other 
chambers,  but  now  closed  np,  and  the  guide  stated  that 
seventy-four  Prophets  were  interred  therein.  There  seems  to 
be  no  doubt  that  the  present  Arab  village  occupies  the  site  of 
Bethany ;  and  if  it  could  be  proved  that  this  pit  existed  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Christian  Era,  and  there  never  had  been  any 
ether,  we  might  accept  it  as  the  tomb  of  Lazarus.  On  the 
erest  of  a  high  hill,  over  against  Bethany,  is  an  Arab  Tillage  oo 
the  site  of  Bethpage. 

We  descended  into  the  valley  of  a  winter  stream,  now  filled 


THE     VALLEY     01     FIKK.  68 

with  patches  of  sparse  wheat,  just  beginning  to  ripen.  Tht 
mountains  grew  more  bleak  and  desolate  as  we  advanced,  and 
as  there  is  a  regular  descent  in  the  several  ranges  over  which 
one  must  pass,  the  distant  hills  of  the  lands  of  Moab  and 
Aminon  were  always  in  sight,  rising  like  a  high,  blue  wall 
against  the  sky.  The  Dead  Sea  is  4,000  feet  below  Jerusa- 
lem, but  the  general  slope  of  the  intervening  district  is  sf 
regular  that  from  the  spires  of  the  city,  and  the  Mount  ol 
Olives,  one  can  look  down  directly  upon  its  waters.  This 
deceived  me  as  to  the  actual  distance,  and  I  could  scarcely 
credit  the  assertion  of  our  Arab  escort,  that  it  would  require 
six  hours  to  reach  it.  After  we  had  ridden  nearly  two  hours, 
we  left  the  Jericho  road,  sending  Mustapha  and  a  staunch  old 
Arab  direct  to  our  resting-place  for  the  night,  in  the  Valley  of 
the  Jordan.  The  two  mounted  Bedouins  accompanied  us  acrosj 
the  rugged  mountains  lying  between  us  and  the  Dead  Sea. 

At  first,  we  took  the  way  to  the  Convent  of  Mar  Saba,  fol- 
lowing the  course  of  the  Brook  Keclron  down  the  Wadj 
wn-Nar  (Valley  of  Fire).  In  half  an  hour  more  we  reached 
two  large  tanks,  hewn  out  under  the  base  of  a  limestone  cliff, 
and  nearly  filled  with  rain.  The  surface  was  covered  with  a 
greenish  vegetable  scum,  and  three  wild  and  dirty  Arabs 
of  the  hills  were  washing  themselves  in  the  principal  one 
Our  Bedouins  immediately  dismounted  and  followed  their 
example,  and  after  we  had  taken  some  refreshment,  we  had 
the  satisfaction  of  filling  our  water-jug  from  the  same  sweet 
pool.  After  this,  we  left  the  San  Saba  road,  and  mounted  the 
height  east  of  the  valley.  From  that  point,  all  signs  of  cult! 
ration  and  habitation  disappeared.  The  mountains  were  grim, 
bare,  and  frightfully  rugged.  The  scanty  grass,  coaxed  into  lifr 


64  THE  LANDS  OF  THR  SARACEN. 

by  the  winter  rains,  was  already  scorched  our,  of  all  greenness 
some  bunches  of  wild  sage,  gnaphalium,  and  other  hardy  aro 
matic  herbs  spotted  the  yellow  soil,  and  in  sheltered  places  the 
scarlet  poppies  burned  like  coals  of  fire  among  the  rifts  of  tha 
gray  limestone  rock.  Our  track  kept  along  the  higher 
ridges  and  crests  of  the  hills,  between  the  glens  and  gorges 
which  sank  on  either  hand  to  a  dizzy  depth  below,  and  were 
so  steep  as  to  be  almost  inaccessible.  The  region  is  so 
scarred,  gashed  and  torn,  that  no  work  of  man's  hand  can 
save  i*  from  perpetual  desolation.  It  is  a  wilderness  more 
hopeless  than  the  Desert.  If  I  were  left  alone  in  the  midst 
of  it,  I  should  lie  down  and  await  death,  without  thought  or 
»ope  of  rescue. 

The  character  of  the  day  was  peculiarly  suited  to  enhance 
the  impression  of  such  scenery.  Though  there  were  no  clouds, 
the  sun  was  invisible  :  as  far  as  we  could  see,  beyond  the  Jor- 
dan, and  away  southward  to  the  mountains  of  Moab  and 
the  cliffs  of  Engaddi,  the  whole  country  was  covered  as  with 
the  smoke  of  a  furnace  ;  and  the  furious  sirocco,  that  threat- 
ened to  topple  us  down  the  gulfs  yawning  on  either  hand,  had 
QO  coolness  on  its  wings.  The  horses  were  sure-footed,  but 
now  and  then  a  gust  would  come  that  made  them  and  us 
strain  against  it,  to  avoid  being  dashed  against  the  rock  on 
one  side,  or  hurled  off  the  brink  on  the  other.  The  atmos- 
phere was  painfully  oppressive,  and  by  and  by  a  dogged 
silence  took  possession  of  our  party.  After  passing  a  lofty 
peak  which  Francois  called  Djebel  Nuttar,  the  Mountain 
of  Rain,  we  came  to  a  large  Moslem  building,  situated  on 
a  bleak  eminence,  overlooking  part  of  the  valley  of  the  Jordan. 
This  is  tue  tomb  called  Nebbee  Moussa  by  the  Arabs,  and 


THE    SHORE     UK    TIIK    .DEAD    SEA.  66 

believed  by  them  to  stand  upon  the  spot  where  Moses  died 
We  halted  at  the  gate,  but  no  one  came  to  admit  us,  though 
my  companion  thought  he  saw  a  mail's  head  at  one  of  the  aper- 
tures in  the  wall.  Arab  tradition  here  is  as  much  at  fault  aa 
Christian  tradition  in  many  other  places.  Ihe  true  Nebo  is 
somewhere  in  the  chain  of  Pisgah;  and  though,  probably, 
I  saw  it,  and  all  see  it  who  go  down  to  the  Jordan,  yet  "  no 
man  knoweth  its  place  unto  this  day." 

Beyond  Nebbee  Moussa,  we  came  out  upon  the  last  heights 
overlooking  the  Dead  Sea,  though  several  miles  of  low 
hills  remained  to  be  passed.  The  head  of  the  sea  was  visible 
as  far  as  the  Ras-el-Feshka  on  the  west,  and  the  hot  fountains 
of  Callirhoe  on  the  eastern  shore.  Farther  than  this,  all  waa 
vapor  and  darkness.  The  water  was  a  soft,  deep  purple  hue, 
brightening  into  blue.  Our  road  led  down  what  seemed  a  vast 
sloping  causeway  from  the  mountains,  between  two  ravines, 
walled  by  cliffs  several  hundred  feet  in  height.  It  gradually 
flattened  into  a  plain,  covered  with  a  white,  saline  incrus- 
tation, and  grown  with  clumps  of  sour  willow,  tamarisk,  and 
other  shrubs,  among  which  I  looked  in  vain  for  the  osher,  or 
Dead  Sea  apple.  The  plants  appeared  as  if  smitten  with 
leprosy;  but  there  were  some  flowers  growing  almost  to  the 
margin  of  the  sea. .  We  reached  the  shore  about  2  P.  M. 
The  heat  by  this  time  was  most  severe,  and  the  air  so  dense  as 
to  occasion  pains  in  my  ears.  The  Dead  Sea  is  1,300  feet 
below  the  Mediterranean,  and  without  doubt  the  lowest  part 
of  the  earth's  surface.  I  attribute  the  oppression  I  felt  to  this 
fact  and  to  the  sultriness  of  the  day,  rather  than  to  any  exha- 
lation from  the  sea  itself  Francois  remarked,  however,  that 
had  the  wind — which  by  this  time  was  ~eering  round  to 


66  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

the  tiorth-rast — blown  from  the  south,  we  could  scarcely  hav* 
endured  it.  The  sea  resembles  a  great  cauldron,  sunk  between 
mountains  from  three  to  four  thousand  feet  in  height ;  and  pro- 
bably we  did  not  experience  more  than  a  tithe  of  the  summer 
Ueat. 

I  proposed  a  bath,  for  the  sake  of  experiment,  but  Francois 
endeavored  to  dissuade  us.  He  had  tried  it,  and  nothing 
could  be  more  disagreeable  ;  we  risked  getting  a  fever, 
and,  besides,  there  were  four  hours  of  dangerous  travel  yet 
before  us.  But  by  this  time  we  were  half  undressed,  and 
soon  were  floating  on  the  clear  bituminous  waves.  The  beach 
was  tine  gravel  and  shelved  gradually  down.  I  kept  my 
turban  on  my  head,  and  was  careful  to  avoid  touching  the 
water  with  my  face.  The  sea  was  moderately  warm  and 
gratefully  soft  and  soothing  to  the  skin.  It  was  impossible  to 
sink  ;  and  even  while  swimming,  the  body  rose  half  out  of  the 
water.  I  should  think  it  possible  to  dive  for  a  short  distance, 
bnt  prefer  that  some  one  else  would  try  the  experiment. 
With  a  log  of  wood  for  a  pillow,  one  might  sleep  as  on  one  of 
the  patent  mattresses.  The  taste  of  the  water  is  salty  and 
pungent,  and  stings  the  tongue  like  saltpetre.  We  were 
obliged  to  dress  in  all  haste,  without  even  wiping  off  the 
detestable  liquid  ;  yet  I  experienced  very  little  of  that  dis- 
comfort which  most  travellers  have  remarked.  Where  the 
skin  had  been  previously  bruised,  there  was  a  slight  smarting 
sensation,  and  my  body  felt  clammy  and  glutinous,  but  the 
bath  was  rather  refreshing  than  otherwise. 

We  turned  our  horses'  heads  towards  the  Jordan,  and  rode 
on  over  a  dry,  barren  plain.  The  two  Bedouins  at  first 
iashed  ahead  at  ull  gallop,  uttering  cries,  and  whirling  then 


A    WATCH    FOR    ROBBERS.  61 

long  gnns  in  the  air.  The  dust  they  raised  was  blown  in  oni 
faces,  and  contained  so  much  salt  that  my.  eyes  began  to  smart 
painfully.  Thereupon  I  followed  them  at  an  equal  rate  of  speed 
and  we  left  a  long  cloud  of  the  accursed  soil  whirling  behind 
QS.  Presently,  however,  they  fell  to  the  rear,  and  continued  to 
keep  at  some  distance  from  us.  The  reason  of  this  was  soon 
explained.  The  path  turned  eastward,  and  we  already  saw  a 
line  of  dusky  green  winding  through  the  wilderness.  This  waa 
the  Jordan,  and  the  mountains  beyond,  the  home  of  robber 
Arabs,  were  close  at  hand.  Those  robbers  frequently  cross 
the  river  and  conceal  themselves  behind  the  sand-hills  on  this 
side.  Our  brave  escort  was,  therefore,  inclined  to  put  as  for- 
ward as  a  forlorn-hope,  and  secure  their  own  retreat  in  case  of 
an  attack.  But  as  we  were  all  well  armed,  and  had  never  consi- 
dered their  attendance  as  anything  more  than  a  genteel  way 
of  buying  them  off  from  robbing  us,  we  allowed  them  to  lag  as 
much  as  they  chose.  Finally,  as  we  approached  the  Pilgrims' 
Ford,  one  of  them  took  his  station  at  some  distance  from  the 
river,  on  the  top  of  a  mound,  while  the  other  got  behind  some 
trees  near  at  hand  ;  in  order,  as  they  said,  to  watch  the  oppo- 
site hills,  and  alarm  us  whenever  they  should  see  any  of  the 
Beni  Sukrs,  or  the  Beni  Adwams,  or  the  Tyakh,  coming  dowo 
ipon  us. 

The  Jordan  at  this  point  will  not  average  more  than  teD 
yards  in  breadth.  It  flows  at  the  bottom  of  a  gully  about  fif- 
teen feet  dsep,  which  traverses  the  broad  valley  in  a  most  tor- 
tuous course.  The  water  has  a  white,  clayey  hue,  and  is  very 
Bwift.  The  changes  of  the  current  have  formed  islands  and 
beds  of  soil  here  and  there,  which  are  covered  with  a  dense 
jrrowth  of  ash,  poplar,  willow,  and  tamarisk  trees.  The  banki 


88  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

of  the  river  are  bordered  with  thickets,  now  overgrown  with 
wild  vines,  and  fragrant  with  flowering  plants.  Birds  sing 
continually  in  the  cool,  dark  coverts  of  the  trees.  I  found  a 
singular  charm  in  the  wild,  lonely,  luxuriant  banks,  the  tangled 
undergrowth,  and  the  rapid,  brawling  course  of  the  sacred 
stream,  as  it  slipped  in  sight  and  out  of  sight  among  the  trees 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  reach  the  water  at  any  othei 
point  than  the  Ford  of  the  Pilgrims,  the  supposed  locality 
of  the  passage  of  the  Israelites  and  the  baptism  of  Christ. 
The  plain  near  it  is  still  blackened  by  the  camp-fires  of  the  ten 
thousand  pilgrims  who  went  down  from  Jerusalem  three  weeks 
ago,  to  bathe.  We  tied  our  horses  to  the  trees,  and  prepared 
to  follow  their  example,  which  was  necessary,  if  only  to  wash  off 
the  iniquitous  slime  of  the  Dead  Sea.  Francois,  in  the  mean- 
tune,  filled  two  tin  flasks  from  the  stream  and  stowed  them  iu 
the  saddle-bags.  The  current  was  so  swift,  that  one  could  not 
venture  far  without  the  risk  of  being  carried  away  ;  but  I  sue 
ceeded  in  obtaining  a  complete  and  most  refreshing  immersion. 
The  taint  of  Gomorrah  was  not  entirely  washed  away,  but  I 
rode  off  with  as  great  a  sense  of  relief  as  if  the  baptism  had 
been  a  moral  one,  as  well,  and  had  purified  me  from  sin. 

We  rode  for  nearly  two  hours,  in  a  north-west  direction,  tc 
the  Bedouin  village  of  Rihah,  near  the  site  of  ancient  Jericho. 
Before  reaching  it,  the  gray  salt  waste  vanishes,  and  the  soil  if 
covered  with  grass  and  herbs.  The  barren  character  of  the 
first  region  is  evidently  owing  to  deposits  from  the  vapors  of 
the  Dea  Sea,  as  tbej  are  blown  over  the  plain  by  the  soutfc 
wind.  The  channels  of  streams  around  Jericho  are  filled  with 
nebbuk  trees,  the  fruit  of  which  is  just  ripening.  It  is  appa- 
rently indigenous,  and  grows  more  luxuriantly  than  on  the 


CAMP    AT    JERICHO.  69 

White  Nile.  It  is  a  variety  of  the  rhamnus,  aud  is  set  down 
by  botanists  as  the  Spina  Christi,  of  which  the  Saviour's  mock 
crown  of  thorns  was  made.  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  this,  as 
the  twigs  are  long  and  pliant,  and  armed  with  small,  though 
most  cruel,  thorns.  I  had  to  pay  for  gathering  some  of  the 
fruit,  with  a  torn  dress  and  bleeding  fingers.  The  little  apples 
which  it  bears  are  slightly  acid  and  excellent  for  alleviating 
thirst  I  also  noticed  on  the  plain  a  variety  of  the  night- 
shade, with  large  berries  of  a  golden  color.  The  spring 
flowers,  so  plentiful  now  in  all  other  parts  of  Palestine,  have 
already  disappeared  from  the  Valley  of  the  Jordan. 

Rihah  is  a  vile  little  village  of  tents  and  mud-huts,  and  the 
only  relic  of  antiquity  near  it  is  a  square  tower,  which  may 
possibly  be  of  the  time  of  Herod.  There  are  a  few  gardens 
in  the  place,  and  a  grove  of  superb  fig-trees.  We  found 
our  tent  already  pitched  beside  a  rill  which  issues  from  the 
Fountain  of  Elisha.  The  evening  was  very  sultry,  and  the 
musquitoes  gave  us  no  rest.  We  purchased  some  milk  from 
an  old  man  who  came  to  the  tent,  but  such  was  his  mistrust 
of  us  that  he  refused  to  let  us  keep  the  earthen  vessel  contain- 
ing it  until  morning.  As  we  had  already  paid  the  money  to 
his  son,  we  would  not  let  him  take  the  milk  away  until  he  had 
brought  the  money  back.  He  then  took  a  dagger  from  his 
waist  aud  threw  it  before  us  as  security,  while  he  carried  off 
the  vessel  and  returned  the  price.  I  have  frequently  seen  the 
Bame  mistrustful  spirit  exhibited  in  Egypt.  Our  two  Bedouins, 
to  whom  I  gave  some  tobacco  in  the  evening,  manifested  theii 
gratitude  by  stealing  the  remainder  of  our  stock  during  the 
tight. 

This  morning  we  followed  the  stream  to  its  coorce,  tht 


70  THE     LANDS     OF     THE     SARACEN. 

Fountain  of  Elisha,  so  called  as  being  probably  that  healed  bj 
the  Prophet.  If  so,  the  healing  was  scarcely  complete.  The 
water,  which  gashes  up  strong  and  free  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky 
mound,  is  warm  and  slightly  brackish.  It  spreads  into  a 
shallow  pool,  shaded  by  a  fine  sycamore  tree.  Just  below, 
there  are  some  remains  of  old  walls  on  both  sides,  and  the 
stream  goes  roaring  away  through  a  rank  jungle  of  canes 
fifteen  feet  in  height.  The  precise  site  of  Jericho,  I  believe, 
has  not  been  fixed,  but  "  the  city  of  the  palm  trees,"  j,s  it  was 
called,  was  probably  on  the  plain,  near  some  mounds  which  rise 
behind  the  Fountain.  Here  there  are  occasional  traces  of 
foundation  walls,  but  so  ruined  as  to  give  no  clue  to  the  date 
of  their  erection.  Further  towards  the  mountain  there  are 
some  arches,  which  appear  to  be  Saracenic.  As  we  ascended 
again  into  the  hill-country,  I  observed  several  traces  of  cisterns 
in  the  bottoms  of  ravines,  which  collect  the  rains.  Herod,  as 
is  well  known,  built  many  such  cisterns  near  Jericho,  where  he 
had  a  palace.  On  the  first  crest,  to  which  we  climbed,  there  is 
part  of  a  Roman  tower  yet  standing.  The  view,  looking  back 
over  the  valley  of  Jordan,  is  magnificent,  extending  from  the 
Dead  Sea  to  the  mountains  of  Gilead,  beyond  the  country  of 
Ammon.  I  thought  I  could  trace  the  point  where  the  River 
Yabbok  comes  down  from  Mizpeh  of  Gilead  to  join  the  Jordan 
The  wilderness  we  now  entered  was  fully  as  barren,  but  less 
rugged  than  that  through  which  we  passed  yesterday.  The 
path  ascended  along  the  brink  of  a  deep  gorge,  at  the  bottom  of 
which  a  little  stream  foamed  over  the  rocks.  The  high,  bleak 
summits  towards  which  we  were  climbing,  are  considered  by 
some  Biblical  geographers  to  be  Mount  Quarantana,  the  scene 
of  Christ's  fasting  and  temptation.  After  two  hours  we 


RKTUKN     TO     JERUSALEM.  1 

reached  the  rains  of  a  large  khan  or  hostlery,  under  one  of  the 
peaks,  which  Francois  stated  to  be  the  veritable  "  high  moun- 
tain "  whence  the  Devil  pointed  out  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth.  There  is  a  cave  in  the  rock  beside  the  road,  which  the 
superstitious  look  upon  as  the  orifice  out  of  which  his  Satanic 
Majesty  issued.  We  met  large  numbers  of  Arab  families,  with 
their  flocks,  descending  from  the  mountains  to  take  up  their 
summer  residence  near  the  Jordan.  They  were  all  on  foot, 
except  the  young  children  and  goats,  which  were  stowed 
together  on  the  backs  of  donkeys.  The  men  were  armed,  and 
appeared  to  be  of  the  same  tribe  as  our  escort,  with  whom  they 
had  a  good  understanding. 

The  morning  was  cold  and  cloudy,  and  we  hurried  on  over 
the  hills  to  a  fountain  in  the  valley  of  the  Brook  Kedrot,, 
where  we  breakfasted.  Before  we  had  reached  Bethany  a  rain 
came  down,  and  the  sky  hung  dark  and  lowering  over  Jerusa- 
lem, as  we  passed  the  crest  of  Mount  Olivet.  It  still  rains, 
and  the  filthy  condition  of  the  city  exceeds  anything  I  have 
seen,  even  in  the  Or'ent. 


72  THE     LANDS     OP    THE     SARACEtf. 


CHAPTER   V. 


THE     CITY     OF    CHRIST. 

Modern  Jerusalem — The  Site  of  the  City— Mount  Zion — Mount  Moriah — The 
Temple— The  Valley  of  Jehosaphat— The  Olives  of  Gethsemane— The  Mount  of 
Olives — Moslem  Tradition— Panorama  from  the  Summit — The  Interior  of  the 
City — The  Population — Missions  and  Missionaries — Christianity  in  Jerusalem — 
Intolerance — The  Jews  of  Jerusalem — The  Face  of  Christ — The  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre — The  Holy  of  Holies— The  Sacred  Localities— Visions  of  Christ 
— The  Mosque  of  Omar — The  Holy  Man  of  Timbuctoo — Preparations  for  De- 
parture. 

"  Cut  off  thy  hair,  O  Jerusalem,  and  cast  it  away,  and  take  up  a  lamentation  in 
high  places ;  for  the  Lord  hath  rejected  and  forsaken  the  generation  of  his  wrath." 
—  TRWMTAU  vii  o- 


"  Here  pilgrims  roam,  that  strayed  so  far  to  seek 
In  Golgotha  him  dead,  who  lives  in  Heaven." 

MILTON. 

JERUSALEM,  Monday^  May  3,  1852. 

SINCE  travel  is  becoming  a  necessary  part  of  education,  and 
a  journey  through  the  East  is  no  longer  attended  with  personal 
risk,  Jerusalem  will  soon  be  as  familiar  a  station  on  the  grand 
tour  as  Paris  or  Naples.  The  task  of  describing  it  is  already 
next  to  superfluous,  so  thoroughly  has  the  topography  of  the 
city  been  laid  down  by  the  surveys  of  Robinson  and  the 
drawings  of  Roberts.  There  is  little  more  left  for  Biblical 
research.  The  few  places  which  can  be  authenticated  are 
now  generally  accepted,  and  the  many  doubtful  ones  mast 
always  be  the  subjects  of  speculation  and  conjecture.  There 


MODERN    JERUSALEM.  78 

is  no  new  light  which  can  remove  the  cloud  of  uncertainties 
wherein  one  continually  wanders.  Yet,  even  rejecting  al 
these  with  the  most  skeptical  spirit,  there  still  remains  enough 
to  make  the  place  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  every  follower  of 
Christ.  The  city  stands  on  the  ancient  site  ;  the  Mount  of 
Olives  looks  down  upon  it  ;  the  foundations  of  the  Temple  of 
Solomon  are  on  Mount  Moriah  ;  the  Pool  of  Siloam  has  still 
a  cup  of  water  for  those  who  at  noontide  go  down  to  the 
Valley  of  Jehosaphat  ;  the  ancient  gate  yet  looketh  towards 
Damascus,  and  of  the  Palace  of  Herod,  there  is  a  tower  which 
Time  and  Turk  and  Crusader  have  spared. 

Jerusalem  is  built  on  the  summit  ridge  of  the  hill-country 
of  Palestine,  just  where  it  begins  to  slope  eastward.  Not 
half  a  mile  from  the  Jaffa  Gate,  the  waters  run  towards  the 
Mediterranean.  It  is  about  2,700  feet  above  the  latter,  and 
4,000  feet  above  the  Dead  Sea,  to  which  the  descent  is  much 
more  abrupt.  The  hill,  or  rather  group  of  small  mounts,  on 
which  Jerusalem  stands,  slants  eastward  to  the  brink  of  the 
Valley  of  Jehosaphat,  and  the  Mount  of  Olives  rises  opposite, 
from  the  sides  and  summit  of  which,  one  sees  the  entire  city 
spread  out  like  a  map  before  him.  The  Valley  of  Hinnon, 
the  bed  of  which  is  on  a  much  higher  level  than  that  of 
Jehosaphat,  skirts  the  south-western  and  southern  part  of  the 
walls,  and  drops  into  the  latter  valley  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Zion,  the  most  southern  of  the  mounts.  The  steep  slope  at 
the  junction  of  the  two  valleys  is  the  site  of  the  city  of 
the  .Jebusites,  the  most  ancient  part  of  Jerusalem.  It  is 
iio\v  covered  \vitli  <rarden-teiTaees,  the  present  wall  crossing 
from  .Mount  Zion  on  the  south  to  Mount  Moriah  on  the  east. 

A    little   iden,  anciently   called   the  Tyropeon,  divides  the 

4 


74  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

mounts,  and  winds  through  to  the  Damascus  Gate,  OL  the 
north,  though  from  the  height  of  the  walls  and  the  position 
of  the  city,  the  depression  which  it  causes  in  the  mass  of 
buildings  is  not  very  perceptible,  except  from  the  latter  point 
Moriah  is  the  lowest  of  the  mounts,  and  hangs  directly  over 
the  Valley  of  Jehosaphat.  Its  summit  was  built  up  b} 
Solomon  so  as  to  form  a  quadrangular  terrace,  five  hundred 
by  three  hundred  yards  in  dimension.  The  lower  courses  of 
the  grand  wall,  composed  of  huge  blocks  of  gray  conglomerate 
limestone,  still  remain,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that 
they  are  of  the  time  of  Solomon.  Some  of  the  stones  are  of 
enormous  size  ;  I  noticed  several  which  were  fifteen,  and  one 
twenty-two  feet  in  length.  The  upper  part  of  the  wall  was 
restored  by  Sultan  Selim,  the  conqueror  of  Egypt,  and  the 
level  of  the  terrace  now  supports  the  great  Mosque  of  Omar, 
which  stands  on  the  very  site  of  the  temple.  Except  these 
foundation  walls,  the  Damascus  Gate  and  the  Tower  of 
Hippicus,  there  is  nothing  left  of  the  ancient  city.  The 
length  of  the  present  wall  of  circumference  is  about  two  miles 
bat  the  circuit  of  Jerusalem,  in  the  time  of  Herod,  was 
probably  double  that  distance. 

The  best  views  of  the  city  are  from  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
and  the  hill  north  of  it,  whence  Titus  directed  the  siege  which 
resulted  in  its  total  destruction.  The  Crusaders  under  God- 
frey of  Bouillon  encamped  on  the  same  hill.  My  first  wulk 
after  reaching  here,  was  to  the  summit  of  the  Mount  of  Olives. 
Not  far  from  the  hotel  we  came  upon  the  Via  Dolorosa,  up 
which,  according  to  Catholic  tradition,  Christ  toiled  with  the 
cross  upon  vais  shoulders.  I  found  it  utterly  impossible  to 
imagine  that  I  was  walking  in  the  same  path,  and  preferred 


THE     VALLEY     OF     JEHOSAl'llAT.  75 

doubting  the  tradition.  An  arch  is  built  across  the  street  at 
the  spot  where  they  say  he  was  shown  to  the  populace, 
( Ecce  Homo.)  The  passage  is  steep  and  rough,  descending  tc 
St.  Stephen's  Gate  by  the  Governor's  Palace,  which  stands  CD 
the  site  of  the  house  of  Pontius  Pilate.  Here,  in  the  \\all 
forming  the  northern  part  of  the  foundation  of  the  temple, 
there  are  some  very  fine  remains  of  ancient  workmanship 
Prom  the  city  wall,  the  ground  descends  abruptly  to  the 
Valley  of  Jehosaphat.  The  Turkish  residents  have  their 
tombs  on  the  city  side,  just  under t  the  terrace  of  the  mosque, 
while  thousands  of  Jews  find  a  peculiar  beatitude  in  having 
themselves  interred  on  the  opposite  slope  of  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  which  is  in  some  places  quite  covered  with  theif 
crumbling  tombstones.  The  bed  of  the  Brook  Kedron  is  now 
dry  and  stony.  A  sort  of  chapel,  built  in  the  bottom  of  the 
valley,  is  supposed  by  the  Greeks  to  cover  the  tomb  of  the 
Virgin — a  claim  which  the  Latins  consider  absurd.  Near  this, 
at  the  very  foot  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  the  latter  sect  have 
lately  built  a  high  stone  wall  around  the  Garden  of  Gethse- 
mane,  for  the  purpose,  apparently,  of  protecting  the  five  aged 
olives.  I  am  ignorant  of  the  grounds  wherefore  Gethsemane 
Is  placed  here.  Most  travellers  have  given  their  faith  to  the 
spot,  but  Dr.  Robinson,  who  is  more  reliable  than  any  amount 
of  mere  tradition,  does  not  coincide  with  them.  The  trees  do 
not  appear  as  ancient  as  some  of  those  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Carmel,  which  are  supposed  to  date  from  the  Roman  colony 
established  by  Titus.  Moreover,  it  is  well  known  that  at  the 
time  of  the  taking  of  Jerusalem  by  that  Emperor  ail 
the  trees,  for  many  miles  around,  were  destroyed.  Th« 
alive-trees,  therefore,  cannot  be  those  under  which  Chris/ 


76  THF  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

rested,  even  supposing  this  to  be  the  true  site  of  Getb 
semane. 

The  Mount  of  Olives  is  a  steep  and  rugged  hill,  dominating 
over  the  city  and  the  surrounding  heights.  It  is  still  covered 
.vith  olive  orcharls,  and  planted  with  patches  of  grain,  which 
do  not  thrive  well  on  the  stony  soil.  On  the  summit  is  a 
mosque,  with  a  minaret  attached,  which  affords  a  grand  pano- 
ramic view.  As  we  reached  it,  the  Chief  of  the  College  of 
Dervishes,  in  the  court  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  came  out  with 
a  number  of  attendants.  He  saluted  us  courteously,  which 
would  not  have  been  the  case  had  he  been  the  Superior  of  the 
Latin  Convent,  and  we  Greek  Monks.  There  were  some 
Turkish  ladies  in  the  interior  of  the  mosque,  so  that  we  could 
not  gain  admittance,  and  therefore  did  not  see  the  rock  con- 
taining the  foot-prints  of  Christ,  who,  according  to  Moslem 
tradition,  ascended  to  heaven  from  this  spot.  The  Mohamme- 
ians,  it  may  not  be  generally  known,  accept  the  history  of 
Christ,  except  his  crucifixion,  believing  that  he  passed  to 
heaven  without  death,  another  person  being  crucified  in  his 
stead.  They  call  him  the  RohrAllah,  or  Spirit  of  God, 
and  consider  him,  after  Mahomet,  as  the  holiest  of  the 
Prophets. 

We  ascended  to  the  gallery  of  the  minaret.  The  city  lay 
opposite,  so  fairly  spread  out  to  our  view  that  almost  every 
house  might  be  separately  distinguished.  It  is  a  mass  of  gray 
buildings,  with  dome-roofs,  and  but  for  the  mosques  of  Omar 
and  El  Aksa,  with  the  courts  and  galleries  around  them,  would 
be  exceedingly  tame  in  appearance.  The  only  other  prominent 
points  are  the  towers  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  the  citadel, 
enclosing  Herod's  Tower,  and  the  mosque  on  mount  Zion.  Th« 


A     SACRKD      1'AXOKAMA.  T"J 

.rurkisb  wall,  with  its  sharp  angles,  its  square  bastions,  and 
the  long,  embrasured  lines  of  its  parapet,  is  the  most  striding 
feature  of  the  view.  Stony  hills  stretch  away  from  the  city 
on  all  sides,  at  present  cheered  with  tracts  of  springing  wheat, 
but  later  in  the  season,  brown  and  desolate.  In  the  south,  th? 
convent  of  St.  Elias  is  visible,  and  part  of  the  little  towu  ol 
Bethlehem.  I  passed  to  the  eastern  side  of  the  gallery,  and 
looking  thence,  deep  down  among  the  sterile  mountains,  beheld 
a  long  sheet  of  blue  water,  its  southern  extremity  vanishing  in 
a  hot,  sulphury  haze.  The  mountains  of  Ammon  and  Moab, 
which  formed  the  back-ground  of  my  first  view  of  Jerusalem, 
leaned  like  a  vast  wall  against  the  sky,  beyond  the  mysterious 
sea  and  the  broad  valley  of  the  Jordan.  The  great  depression 
of  this  valley  below  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean  gives  it  a 
most  remarkable  character.  It  appears  even  deeper  than  is 
actually  the  case,  and  resembles  an  enormous  chasm  or  moat, 
separating  two  different  regions  of  the  earth.  The  khamseen 
was  blowing  from  the  south,  from  out  the  deserts  of  Edom, 
and  threw  its  veil  of  fiery  vapor  over  the  landscape.  The 
muezzin  pointed  out  to  me  the  location  of  Jericho,  of  Kerak 
in  Moab,  and  Es-Salt  in  the  country  of  Ammon.  Ere  long 
the  shadow  of  the  minaret  denoted  noon,  and,  placing  his 
hands  on  both  sides  of  his  mouth,  he  cried  out,  first  on  the 
South  side,  towards  Mecca,  and  then  to  the  West,  and  North 
and  East :  "  God  is  great :  there  is  no  God  but  God,  and 
Mohammed  is  His  Prophet!  Let  us  prostrate  ourselves  before 
Him  :  and  to  Him  alone  be  the  glory!" 

Jerusalem,  internally,  gives  no  impression  but  that  of  filth, 
ruin,  poverty,  and  degradation.  There  are  two  or  three 
streets  in  the  western  or  higher  portion  of  the  city  which  aw 


78  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

tolerably  clean,  but  all  the  others,  to  the  very  gates  of  t.i( 
Holy  Sepulchre,  are  channels  of  pestilence.  The  Jewish  Quar 
ter,  which  is  the  largest,  so  sickened  and  disgusted  me,  that  1 
should  rather  go  the  whole  round  of  the  city  walls  than  pass 
through  it  a  second  time.  The  bazaars  are  poor,  compared 
with  those  of  other  Oriental  cities  of  the  same  size,  and  the 
principal  trade  seems  to  be  in  rosaries,  both  Turkish  and  Chris- 
tian, crosses,  seals,  amulets,  and  pieces  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
The  population,  which  may  possibly  reach  20,000,  is  apparently 
Jewish,  for  the  most  part ;  at  least,  I  have  been  principally 
struck  with  the  Hebrew  face,  in  my  walks.  The  number  of 
Jews  has  increased  considerably  within  a  few  years,  and  there 
is  also  quite  a  number  who,  having  been  converted  to  Pro- 
testantism, were  brought  hither  at  the  expense  of  English 
missionary  societies  for  the  purpose  of  forming  a  Protestant 
community.  Two  of  the  hotels  are  kept  by  families  of  this 
class.  It  is  estimated  that  each  member  of  the  community  has 
cost  the  Mission  about  £4,500  :  a  sum  which  would  have 
Christianized  tenfold  the  number  of  English  heathen.  The 
Mission,  however,  is  kept  up  by  its  patrons,  as  a  sort  of  religi- 
ous luxury.  The  English  have  lately  built  a  very  handsome 
church  within  the  walls,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gobat,  well  known 
by  bis  missionary  labors  in  Abyssinia,  now  has  the  title  of 
Bishop  of  Jerusalem.  A  friend  of  his  in  Central  Africa  gave 
me  a  letter  of  introduction  for  him,  and  I  am  quite  disap- 
pointed in  finding  him  absent.  Dr.  Barclay,  of  Virginia,  a 
most  worthy  mar»  in  every  respect,  is  at  the  head  of  the  Auio 
rican  Mission  here.  There  is,  besides,  what  is  called  the 
"American  Colony,''  at  the  village  o*  Artos,  near  Bethlehem  : 
a  little  community  of  rcliyious  enthusiasts,  whose  experiment.- 


CHRISTIANITY     IX     JERUSALEM.  19 

in  cultivation  have  met  with  remarkable  success,  and  arc  much 
spoken  of  at  present. 

Whatever  good  the  various  missions  here  may,  in  time 
accomplish  (at  present,  it  does  not  amount  to  much),  Jerusa 
lem  is  the  last  place  in  the  world  where  an  intelligent  heathen 
would  be  converted  to  Christianity.  Were  I  cast  here,  iguo 
rant  of  any  religion,  and  were  I  to  compare  the  lives  and 
practices  of  the  different  sects  as  the  means  of  making  my 
choice — in  short,  to  judge  of  each  faith  by  the  conduct  of  its 
professors — I  should  at  once  turn  Mussulman.  When  you 
consider  that  in  the  Holy  Sepulchre  there  are  nineteen  chapels, 
each  belonging  to  a  different  sect,  calling  itself  Christian,  and 
that  a  Turkish  police  is  always  stationed  there  to  prevent  the 
bloody  quarrels  which  often  ensue  between  them,  you  may 
judge  how  those  who  call  themselves  followers  of  the  Prince 
of  Peace  practice  the  pure  faith  he  sought  to  establish. 
Between  the  Greek  and  Latin  churches,  especially,  there  is  a 
deadly  feud,  and  their  contentions  are  a  scandal,  not  only  to 
the  few  Christians  here,  but  to  the  Moslems  themselves.  I 
believe  there  is  a  sort  of  truce  at  present,  owing  to  the  settle- 
ment of  some  of  the  disputes — as,  for  instance,  the  restoration 
of  the  silver  star,  which  the  Greeks  stole  from  the  shrine  of 
the  Nativity,  at  Bethlehem.  The  Latins,  however,  not  long 
since,  demolished,  vi  et  armis,  a  chapel  which  the  Greeks  com 
menced  building  on  Mount  Zion.  But,  if  the  employment  of 
material  weapons  has  been  abandoned  for  the  time,  there  is 
none  the  less  a  war  of  words  and  of  sounds  still  going  on.  Go 
into  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  when  mass  is  being  celebrated,  and 
you  can  scarcely  endure  the  din.  No  sooner  does  the  Greek 
choir  begin  its  shrill  chant,  than  the  Latins  fly  to  the  assault 


80  THE    LAKDS    O*     THE    SARACEN. 

They  have  an  organ,  and  terribly  does  that  organ  strain  it* 
bellows  and  labor  its  pipes  to  drown  the  rival  singing.  YOB 
think  the  Latins  will  carry  the  day,  when  suddenly  the  cymbals 
of  the  Abyssinians  strike  in  with  harsh  brazen  clang,  and,  fo« 
the  moment,  triumph.  Then  there  are  Copts,  and  Maronites, 
and  Armenians,  and  I  know  not  how  many  other  sects,  who 
most  have  their  share  ;  and  the  service  that  should  be  a  many- 
toned  harmony  pervaded  by  one  grand  spirit  of  devotion, 
becomes  a  discoraant  orgie,  befitting  the  rites  of  Belial. 

A  long  time  ago — I  do  not  know  the  precise  number  of 
years — the  Sultan  granted  a  firman,  in  answer  to  the  applica- 
tion of  both  Jews  and  Christians,  allowing  the  members  of 
each  sect  to  put  to  death  any  person  belonging  to  the  other 
sect,  who  should  be  found  inside  of  their  churches  or  syna- 
gogues. The  firman  has  never  been  recalled,  though  in  every 
place  but  Jerusalem  it  remains  a  dead  letter.  Here,  although 
the  Jews  freely  permit  Christians  to  enter  their  synagogue,  a 
Jew  who  should  enter  the  Holy  Sepulchre  would  be  lucky  if 
he  escaped  with  his  life.  Not  long  siuce,  an  English  gentle- 
man, who  was  taken  by  the  monks  for  a  Jew,  was  so  severely 
beaten  that  he  was  confined  to  his  bed  for  two  months.  What 
worse  than  scandal,  what  abomination,  that  the  spot  looked 
upon  by  so  many  Christians  as  the  most  awfully  sacred  on 
earth,  should  be  the  scene  of  such  brutish  intolerance  !  I 
never  pass  the  group  of  Turkish  officers,  quietly  smoking  their 
long  pipes  and  sipping  their  coffee  within  the  vestibule  of  the 
Church,  without  a  feeling  of  humiliation.  Worso  than  the 
money-changers  whom  Christ  scourged  out  of  the  Temple,  the 
l^uardians  of  this  edifice  make  use  of  His  crucifixion  and 
resurrection  as  a  means  o'  gai.i.  Yoa  may  buy  a  piece  of  the 


THE     JEWS     OF    JERUSALEM.  81 

stone  covering  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  duly  certified  by  the 
Greek  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  for  about  $7.  At  Bethlehem, 
which  I  visited  this  morning,  the  Latin  monk  who  showed  us 
the  manger,  the  p  t  where  12,000  innocents  were  buried,  and 
Other  things,  had  much  less  to  say  of  the  sacreduess  or  autheu- 
licity  of  the  place,  than  of  the  injustice  of  allowing  the  Greek? 
a  share  in  its  possession 

T  3  native  Jewish  families  in  Jerusalem,  as  well  as  those 
in  other  parts  of  Palestine,  present  a  marked  difference  to  tho 
Jews  of  Europe  and  America.  They  possess  the  same  physi- 
cal characteristics — the  dark,  oblong  eye,  the  prominent  nose, 
the  strongly-marked  cheek  and  jaw — but  in  the  latter,  these 
traits  have  become  harsh  and  coarse.  Centuries  devoted  to 
the  lowest  and  most  debasing  forms  of  traffic,  with  the  endu- 
rance of  persecution  and  contumely,  have  greatly  changed  and 
vulgarized  the  appearance  of  the  race.  But  the  Jews  of  the 
Boly  City  still  retain  a  noble  beauty,  which  proved  to  mj 
mind  their  descent  from  the  ancient  princely  houses  of  Israel 
The  forehead  is  loftier,  the  eye  larger  and  more  frank  in  its 
expression,  the  nose  more  delicate  in  its  prominence,  and  the 
face  a  purer  oval.  I  have  remarked  the  same  distinction  in 
the  countenances  of  those  Jewish  families  of  Europe,  whose 
members  have  devoted  themselves  to  Art  or  Literature. 
Mendelssohn's  was  a  face  that  might  have  belonged  to  the 
House  of  David. 

On  the  evening  of  my  arrival  in  the  city,  as  I  set  out  to 
ralk  through  the  bazaars,  I  encountered  a  native  Jew,  whose 
face  will  haunt  me  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  I  was  sauntering 
slowly  along,  asking  myself  "Is  this  Jerusalem?"  when, 
lifting  my  eyes,  they  met  those  of  Christ  1  It  was  the  verj 

4* 


82  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

face  which  Raphael  has  painted — the  traditional  features  of 
the  Savioir,  as  they  are  recognised  and  accepted  by  &. 
Christendom.  The  waving  brown  hair,  partly  hidden  by  i 
Jewish  cap,  fell  clustering  about  the  ears  ;  the  face  was  tli6 
aiost  perfect  oval,  and  almost  feminine  in  the  purity  of  its 
outline  ;  the  serene,  child-like  mouth  was  shaded  with  a  light 
moustache,  and  a  silky  brown  beard  clothed  the  chin  ;  but  the 
eyes — shall  I  ever  look  into  such  orbs  again  ?  Large,  dark, 
unfathomable,  they  beamed  with  an  expression  of  divine  love 
and  divine  sorrow,  such  as  I  never  before  saw  iu  human  face. 
The  man  had  just  emerged  from  a  dark  archway,  and  the 
golden  glow  of  the  sunset,  reflected  from  a  white  wall  above, 
fell  upon  his  face.  Perhaps  it  was  tnis  transfiguration  which 
made  his  beauty  so  unearthly ;  but,  during  the  moment  that 
I  saw  him,  he  was  to  me  a  revelation  of  the  Saviour.  There 
are  still  miracles  in  the  Laud  of  Judah.  As  the  dusk  gathered 
in  the  deep  streets,  I  could  see  nothing  but  the  ineffable 
sweetness  and  benignity  of  that  countenance,  and  my  friend 
was  not  a  little  astonished,  if  not  shocked,  when  I  said  to  him, 
with  the  earnestness  of  belief,  on  my  return  :  "I  have  just 
«*een  Christ." 

I  made  the  round  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  on  Sunday,  while 
the  monks  were  celebrating  the  festival  of  the  Invention  of  the 
Cross,  in  the  chapel  of  the  Empress  Helena.  As  the  finding 
of  the  cross  by  the  Empress  is  almost  the  only  authority  for 
the  places  inclosed  within  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  I  went  thert 
inclined  to  doubt  their  authenticity,  and  came  away  with  my 
doubt  vastly  strengthened.  The  building  is  a  confused  laby- 
riuth  of  chapels,  choirs,  shrines,  staircases,  and  vaults — without 
»ny  definite  plan  or  any  architectural  beauty,  though  very  rid 


THE     H01.Y     SEPULCHRE  88 

in  parts  and  full  of  picturesque  effects.  Golden  lamps  con- 
tinually burn  before  the  sacred  places,  aud  you  rarely  visit 
the  church  without  seeing  some  procession  of  monks,  with 
crosses,  censers,  and  tapers,  threading  the  shadowy  passages, 
from  shrine  to  shrine  It  is  astonishing  how  many  localitiel 
are  assembled  under  one  roof.  At  first,  you  are  shown  the 
stone  on  which  Christ  rested  from  the  burden  of  the  cross  ; 
then,  the  place  where  the  soldiers  cast  lots  for  His  garments, 
both  of  them  adjoining  the  Sepulchre.  After  seeing  this,  you 
are  taken  to  the  Pillar  of  Flagellation  ;  the  stocks  ;  the  place 
of  crowning  with  thorns  ;  the  spot  where  He  met  His  mother  ; 
the  cave  where  the  Empress  Helena  found  the  cross  ;  and, 
lastly,  the  summit  of  Mount  Calvary.  The  Sepulchre  is  a 
small  marble  building  in  the  centre  of  the  church.  We  removed 
our  shoes  at  the  entrance,  and  were  taken  by  a  Greek  monk, 
first  into  a  sort  of  ante-chamber,  lighted  with  golden  lamps, 
and  having  in  the  centre,  inclosed  in  a  case  of  marble,  the 
stone  on  which  the  angel  sat.  Stooping  through  a  low  dooi, 
we  entered  the  Sepulchre  itself.  Forty  lamps  of  gold  burn 
unceasingly  above  the  white  marble  slab,  which,  as  the  monks 
say,  protects  the  stone  whereon  the  body  of  Christ  was  laid. 
As  we  again  emerged,  our  guide  led  us  up  a  flight  of  steps  to 
a  second  story,  in  which  stood  a  shrine,  literally  blazing  with 
gold.  Kneeling  on  the  marble  floor,  he  removed  a  golden 
shield,  and  showed  us  the  hole  in  the  rock  of  Calvary,  where 
the  cross  was  planted.  Close  beside  it  was  the  fissure  pro- 
duced by  the  earthquake  which  followed  the  Crucifixion.  But, 
to  ray  eyes,  aided  by  the  light  of  the  dim  wax  taper,  it  was  no 
violent  rupture,  such  as  an  earthquake  would  produce,  and  the 
rock  did  not  appear  tr  be  the  same  as  that  of  which  Jerusalem 


84  THE    LANDS    OF    THE     SARACB1C. 

is  built.  As  we  turned  to  leave,  a  monk  appeared  with  a  bow 
of  sacred  rose-water,  which  he  sprinkled  on  our  hands,  bestowing 
a  double  portion  on  a  rosary  of  saiidnl-wood  which  I  carried 
But  it  was  a  Mohammedan  rosary,  brought  from  Mecca,  and 
containing  the  sacred  number  of  ninety-nine  beads. 

I  have  not  space  here  to  state  all  the  arguments  for  and 
against  the  localities  in  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  none  of  them  were  authentic,  and  am  glad  tc 
have  the  concurrence  of  such  distinguished  authority  as  Dr. 
Robinson.  So  far  from  this  being  a  matter  of  regret,  I,  for 
one,  rejoice  that  those  sacred  spots  are  lost  to  the  world 
Christianity  does  not  need  them,  and  they  are  spared  a  daily 
profanation  in  the  name  of  religion.  We  know  that  Christ  has 
walked  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  gone  down  to  the  Pool  of 
Siloam,  and  tarried  in  Bethany;  we  know  that  here,  within 
the  circuit  of  our  vision,  He  has  suffered  agony  and  death,  and 
that  from  this  little  point  went  out  all  the  light  that  h;*s  made 
the  world  greater  and  happier  and  better  in  its  latex  than  in 
its  earlier  days. 

Yet,  I  must  frankly  confess,  in  wandering  through  '.ois  city 
— revered  alike  by  Christians,  Jews  and  Turks  as  o;ie  of  the 
holiest  in  the  world — I  have  been  reminded  of  Christ,  the 
Man,  rather  than  of  Christ,  the  Uod.  In  the  glory  which 
overhangs  Palestine  afar  off,  we  imagine  emotions  which  never 
come,  when  we  tread  the  soil  and  walk  over  the  hallowed 
gites.  As  I  toiled  up  the  Mount  of  Olives,  in  the  very  foot- 
steps of  Christ,  panting  with  the  heat  and  the  difficult  ascent, 
I  found  it  utterly  impossible  to  conceive  that  the  Deity,  ii 
human  form,  had  walked  there  before  me.  And  even  at  night, 
%s  I  walk  on  the  terraced  roof,  while  the  moon,  "  the 


VISIONS    OF    CHRIST  85 

moon  of  blessed  Israel,"  restores  the  Jerusalem  of  olden  cays 
to  my  imagination,  the  Saviour  who  then  haunts  my  thoughts 
is  the  Man  Jesus,  in  those  moments  of  trial  when  He  felt  the 
weaknesses  of  our  common  humanity ;  in  that  agony  of  struggle 
in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  in  that  still  more  bitter  cry  of 
human  doubt  and  human  appeal  from  the  cross  :  "  My  God 
my  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  1"  Yet  there  is  nc 
reproach  for  this  conception  of  the  character  of  Christ 
Better  the  divinely-inspired  Man,  the  purest  and  most  perfect 
of  His  race,  the  pattern  and  type  of  all  that  is  good  and  holy 
in  Humanity,  than  the  Deity  for  whose  intercession  we  pray, 
while  we  trample  His  teachings  under  our  feet.  It  would  be 
well  for  many  Christian  sects,  did  they  keep  more  constantly 
before  their  eyes  the  sublime  humanity  of  Christ.  How  much 
bitter  intolerance  and  persecution  might  be  spared  the  world, 
if,  instead  of  simply  adoring  Him  as  a  Divine  Mediator,  they 
would  strive  to  walk  the  ways  He  trod  on  earth.  But  Chris- 
tianity is  still  undeveloped,  and  there  is  yet  no  sect  which 
represents  its  full  and  perfect  spirit. 

It  is  my  misfortune  if  I  give  offence  by  these  remarks.  I 
cannot  assume  emotions  I  do  not  feel,  and  must  describe  Jeru- 
salem as  I  found  it.  Since  being  here,  I  have  read  the 
accounts  of  several  travellers,  and  in  many  cases  the  devotional 
rhapsodies — the  ecstacies  of  awe  and  reverence — in  which  they 
indulge,  strike  me  as  forced  and  affected.  The  pious  writers 
have  described  what  was  expected  of  them,  not  what  they 
found.  It  was  partly  ^rom  reading  such  accounts  that  my 
anticipations  were  raised  too  high,  for  the  view  of  the  city 
"rom  the  Jaffa  road  and  the  panorama  from  the  Mount  of  Olivw 
are  the  only  things  wherein  I  have  been  pleasantly  disappointed 


86  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

By  far  the  most  interesting  relic  left  to  the  city  is  the  form 
dation  wall  of  Solomon's  Temple.  The  Mosque  of  Omar, 
according  to  the  accounts  of  the  Turks,  and  Mr.  Catherwood'i 
examination,  rests  on  immense  vaults,  which  are  believed  to  be 
the  substructions  of  the  Temple  itself.  Under  the  dome  of  the 
mosque  there  is  a  large  mass  of  natural  rock,  revered  by  the 
Moslems  as  that  from  which  Mahomet  mounted  the  beast 
Borak  when  he  visited  the  Seven  Heavens,  and  believed  by 
Mr.  Catherwood  to  have  served  as  part  of  the  foundation  of 
the  Holy  of  Holies.  No  Christian  is  allowed  to  enter  the 
mosque,  or  even  its  enclosure,  on  penalty  of  death,  and  even 
,he  firman  of  the  Sultan  has  failed  to  obtain  admission  for  a 
Frank.  I  have  been  strongly  tempted  to  make  the  attempt  in 
my  Egyptian  dress,  which  happens  to  resemble  that  of  a 
rnollah  or  Moslem  priest,  but  the  Dervishes  in  the  adjoining 
college  have  sharp  eyes,  and  my  pronunciation  of  Arabic 
would  betray  me  in  case  I  was  accosted.  I  even  went  so  far 
as  to  buy  a  string  of  the  large  beads  usually  carried  by  a  mol- 
lah,  but  unluckily  I  do  not  know  the  Moslem  form  of  prayer, 
or  I  might  carry  out  the  plan  under  the  guise  of  religioua 
abstraction.  This  morning  we  succeeded  in  getting  a  nearer 
view  of  the  mosque  from  the  roof  of  the  Governor's  palace. 
Fran£ois,  by  assuming  the  character  of  a  Turkish  cawass, 
gained  us  admission.  The  roof  overlooks  the  entire  enclosure 
of  the  Haram,  and  gives  a  complete  view  of  the  exterior  of 
the  mosque  and  the  paved  court  surrounding  it.  There  is  no 
regularity  in  the  style  of  the  buildings  in  the  enclosure,  but  the 
general  effect  is  highly  picturesque.  The  great  dome  of  the 
mosque  is  the  grandest  in  all  the  Orient,  but  the  body  of  the 
«difice,  made  to  resemble  an  octagonal  tent,  and  covered  witt 


THE     MOSQUE     OF     OMAK.  87 

blue  aud  white  tiles,  is  not  high  enough  to  do  it  justice.  The 
first  court  is  paved  with  marble,  and  has  four  porticoes,  each  ol 
five  light  Saracenic  arches,  opening  into  the  green  park,  which 
occupies  the  rest  of  the  terrace.  This  park  is  studded  with 
cypress  and  fig  trees,  and  dotted  all  over  with  the  tombs  of 
shekhs.  As  we  were  looking  down  on  the  spacious  area, 
behold  !  who  should  come  along  but  Shekh  Mohammed  Senoo- 
see,  the  holy  man  of  Timbuctoo,  who  had  laid  off  his  scarlet 
robe  and  donned  a  green  one.  I  called  down  to  him,  where- 
upon he  looked  up  and  recognised  us.  For  this  reason  I  regret 
our  departure  from  Jerusalem,  as  I  am  sure  a  little  persuasion 
would  induce  the  holy  man  to  accompany  me  within  the 
mosque. 

We  leave  to-morrow  for  Damascus,  by  way  of  Nazareth  and 
Tiberius.  My  original  plan  was  to  have  gone  to  Djerash,  the 
ancient  Geraza,  in  the  land  of  Gilead,  and  thence  to  Bozrah, 
in  Djebel  Hauaran.  But  Djebel  Adjeloun,  as  the  country 
about  Djerash  is  called,  is  under  a  powerful  Bedouin  shekh, 
named  Abd-el  Azeez,  and  without  an  escort  from  him,  which 
involves  considerable  delay  and  a  fee  of  $150,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  make  the  journey.  We  are  therefore  restricted 
to  the  ordinary  route,  and  in  case  we  should  meet  with  any 
difficulty  by  the  way,  Mr.  Smith,  the  American  Consul,  who  is 
now  here,  has  kindly  procured  us  a  firman  from  the  Pasha  of 
Jerusalem.  All  the  travellers  here  are  making  preparations  U 
eave,  but  there  are  still  two  parties  in  the  Desert 


THE    LANDS    OF    THE     SABACKK. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    HILL-COUNTRY    OF    PALESTINE. 


Jerusalem  —  The  Tombs  of  the  Kings  —  El  Bireh  —  The  Hill-Country—  Fire! 
View  of  Mount  Hermon  —  The  Tomb  of  Joseph  —  Ebal  and  Gerizim  —  The  Gardeng  of 
Nations  —  The  Samaritans  —  The  Sacred  Book  —  A  Scene  in  the  Synagogue  —  Mentoi 
and  Telemachus  —  Ride  to  Samaria  —  The  Ruing  of  Sebaste  —  Scriptural  Landscapes- 
Halt  at  Genin—  The  Plain  of  Esdraelon—  Palestine  and  California—  The  Hills  of 
\a«areth—  Accident^Fra  Joachim—  The  Church  of  the  Virgin  —The  Shrine  of  the 
Annunciation  —  The  Holy  Places. 

"  Blest  land  of  Judea  !  thrice  hallowed  of  song, 
Where  the  holiest  of  memories  pilgrim-like  throng: 
In  the  shade  of  thy  palms,  by  the  shores  of  thy  sea, 
On  the  hills  of  thy  beauty,  my  heart  is  with  thee  1  " 

J.  G.  WHITTIEk. 

LATH  COHVOT,  NAZARETH,  Friday,  May  7,  1868. 

WE  left  Jerusalem  by  the  Jaffa  Gate,  because  within  a  few 
months  neither  travellers  nor  baggage  are  allowed  to  pass  the 
Damascus  Gate,  on  account  of  smuggling  operations  having 
been  carried  on  there.  Not  far  from  the  city  wall  there  is  a 
superb  terebinth  tree,  now  in  the  full  glory  of  its  shining  green 
leaves.  It  appears  to  be  bathed  in  a  perpetual  dew  ;  the 
rounded  masses  of  foliage  sparkle  and  glitter  in  the  light,  and 
the  great  spreading  boughs  flood  the  turf  below  with  &  deluge 
of  delicious  shade.  A  number  of  persons  were  reclining  on  the 
grass  under  it,  and  one  of  them,  a  very  handsome  Christian 
boy,  spoke  to  us  in  Italian  and  English.  I  scarcely  remembei 


TH«    TOMBS    OF    TEE    KINGS.  89 

a  brighter  and  purer  day  than  that  of  our  departure.  Th< 
sky  was  a  sheet  of  spotless  blue  ;  every  rift  and  scar  of  the 
distant  hills  was  retouched  with  a  firmer  pencil,  and  all  the 
outlines,  blurred  away  by  the  haze  of  the  previous  few  days, 
were  restored  with  wonderful  distinctness.  The  temperature 
was  hot,  but  not  sultry,  and  the  air  we  breathed  was  an  elixir 
of  immortality. 

Through  a  luxuriant  olive  grove  we  reached  the  Tombs  of 
the  Kings,  situated  in  a  small  valley  to  the  north  of  the  ci*uy 
Part  of  the  valley,  if  not  the  whole  of  it,  has  been  formed  by 
quarrying  away  the  crags  of  marble  and  conglomerate  lime- 
stone for  building  the  city.  Near  the  edge  of  the  low  cliffs 
overhanging  it,  there  are  some  illustrations  of  the  ancient  mode 
of  cutting  stone,  which,  as  well  as  the  custom  of  excavating 
tombs  iu  the  rock,  was  evidently  borrowed  from  Egypt.  The 
upper  surface  of  the  rocks  was  first  made  smooth,  after  which 
the  blocks  were  mapped  out  and  cut  apart  by  grooves  chiselled 
between  them.  I  visited  four  or  five  tombs,  each  of  which 
had  a  sort  of  vestibule  or  open  portico  in  front.  The  door 
was  low,  and  the  chambers  which  I  entered,  small  and  black, 
without  sculptures  of  any  kind.  The  tombs  bear  some  resem- 
blance in  their  general  plan  to  those  of  Thebes,  except  that 
they  are  without  ornaments,  either  sculptured  or  painted 
There  are  fragments  of  sarcophagi  in  some  of  them.  On  the 
southern  side  of  the  valley  is  a  large  quarry,  evidently  worked 
f  »r  marble,  as  the  blocks  have  been  cut  out  from  below, 
leaving  a  large  overhanging  mass, 'part  of  which  has  broken 
off  and  fallen  down.  Some  pieces  which  I  picked  up  were  of  a 
very  fine  white  marble,  somewhat  resembling  that  of  Carrara 
Vlie  opening  of  the  quarry  made  a  striking  picture,  the  soft 


90  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

pink  hue  of  the  weather-stained  rock  contrasting  exqnisitelj 
with  the  vivid  green  of  the  vines  festooning  the  entrance. 

From  the  long  hill  beyond  the  Tombs,  we  took  our  last  vie* 
of  Jerusalem,  far  beyond  whose  walls  I  saw  the  Church  of  the 
Xativity,  at  Bethlehem.  The  Jewish  synagogue  on  the  top  of 
the  mountain  cailed  Xebbee  Samwil,  the  highest  peak  in  Pales- 
tine, was  visible  at  some  distance  to  the  west.  Notwithstand- 
ing its  sanctity,  I  felt  little  regret  at  leaving  Jerusalem,  and 
cheerfully  took  the  rough  road  northward,  over  the  stony  hills. 
There  were  few  habitations  in  sight,  yet  the  hill-sides  were 
cultivated,  wherever  it  was  possible  for  anything  to  grow. 
The  wheat  was  just  coming  into  head,  and  the  people  were  at 
work,  planting  maize.  After  four  hours'  ride,  we  reached  El 
Bireh,  a  little  village  on  a  hill,  with  the  ruins  of  a  convent  and 
a  large  khan.  The  place  takes  its  name  from  a  fountain  of 
excellent  water,  beside  which  we  found  our  tents  already 
pitched.  In  the  evening,  two  Englishmen,  an  ancient  Mentor, 
with  a  wild  young  Telemachus  in  charge,  arrived,  and  camped 
near  us.  The  night  was  calm  and  cool,  and  the  full  moon 
poured  a  flood  of  light  over  the  bare  and  silent  hills. 

We  rose  long  before  sunrise,  and  rode  off  in  the  brilliant 
morning — the  sky  unstained  by  a  speck  of  vapor.  In  the 
valley,  beyond  El  Bireh,  the  husbaudmeu  were  already  at  their 
ploughs,  and  the  village  boys  were  on  their  way  to  the  uncul- 
tured parts  of  the  hills,  with  their  flockh  of  sheep  and  goats. 
L'le  valley  terminated  in  a  deen  gorge,  with  perpendicular 
walls  of  rock  on  either  side.  Our  road  mounted  the  hill  on 
»he  eastern  side,  and  followed  the  brink  of  the  precipice 
through  the  pass,  where  an  enchanting  landscape  opened  upon 
us.  The  village  of  Yebrood  crowned  a  hill  which  rose  oppo 


THE    HILL-COUNTRY.  91 

site,  and  the  monntain  slopes  leaning  towards  it  on  all  sidei 
were  covered  with  orchards  of  fig  trees,  and  either  rustling 
with  wheat  or  cleanly  ploughed  for  maize.  The  soil  was  a  dark 
brown  loam,  and  very  rich.  The  stones  have  been  laboriously 
built  into  terraces ;  and,  even  where  heavy  rocky  boulder* 
almost  hid  the  soil,  young  fig  and  olive  trees  were  planted  in 
the  crevices  between  them.  I  have  never  seen  more  thorough 
and  patient  cultivation.  In  the  crystal  of  the  morning  air, 
the  very  hills  laughed  with  plenty,  and  the  whole  landscape 
beamed  with  the  signs  of  gladness  on  its  countenance. 

The  site  of  ancient  Bethel  was  not  far  to  the  right  of  our 
road.  Over  hills  laden  with  the  olive,  fig,  and  vine,  we  passed 
to  Aiu  el-Haramiyeh,  or  the  Fountain  of  the  Robbers.  Here 
there  are  tombs  cut  in  the  rock  on  both  sides  of  the  valley. 
Over  another  ridge,  Ve  descended  to  a  large,  bowl-shaped 
valley,  entirely  covered  with  wheat,  and  opening  eastward 
towards  the  Jordan.  Thence  to  Nablous  (the  Shechem  of  the 
Old  and  Sychar  of  the  New  Testament)  is  four  hours  through 
a  winding  dell  of  the  richest  harvest  land.  On  the  way,  we 
first  caught  sight  of  the  snowy  top  of  Mount  Hermon,  distant 
at  least  eighty  miles  in  a  straight  line.  Before  reaching 
Nablous,  I  stopped  to  drink  at  a  fountain  of  clear  and  sweet 
water,  beside  a  square  pile  of  masonry,  upon  which  sat  two 
Moslem  dervishes.  This,  we  were  told,  was  the  Tomb  of 
Joseph,  whose  body,  after  having  accompanied  the  Israelites 
in  all  their  wanderings,  was  at  last  deposited  near  Shechem. 
There  is  less  reason  to  doubt  this  spot  than  m  3st  of  the  sacred 
places  of  Palestine,  for  the  reason  that  it  rests,  not  on  Chris- 
tian, but  on  Jewish  tradition.  The  wonderful  tenacity  with 
vhich  the  Jews  cling  to  every  record  or  inerner  to  of  their  earh 


92  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

history,  and  the  fact  that  from  the  time  of  Joseph  a  portion  ot 
them  have  always  lingered  near  the  spot,  render  it  highly 
probable  that  the  locality  of  a  spot  so  sacred  should  have  beet 
preserved  from  generation  to  generation  to  the  present  time 
It  has  been  recently  proposed  to  open  this  tomb,  by  digging 
under  it 'from  the  side.  If  the  body  of  Joseph  was  actually 
deposited  here,  there  are,  no  doubt,  some  traces  of  it  remaining 
It  must  have  been  embalmed,  according  to  the  Egyptian  cus 
torn,  and  placed  in  a  coffin  of  the  Indian  sycamore,  the  wood 
of  which  is  so  nearly  incorruptible,  that  thirty-five  centuries 
would  not  suffice  for  its  decomposition.  The  singular  interest 
of  such  a  discovery  would  certainly  justify  the  experiment. 
Not  far  from  the  tomb  is  Jacob's  Well,  where  Christ  met  the 
Woman  of  Samaria.  This  place  is  also  considered  as  authen 
tic,  for  the  same  reasons.  If  not  wholly  convincing  to  all, 
there  is,  at  least,  so  much  probability  in  them  that  one  is  freed 
from  that  painful  coldness  and  incredulity  with  which  he 
oeholds  the  sacred  shows  of  Jerusalem. 

Leaving  the  Tomb  of  Joseph,  the  road  turned  to  the  west, 
and  entered  the  narrow  pass  between  Mounts  Ebal  and  Geri- 
zim. The  former  is  a  steep,  barren  peak,  clothed  with  terraces 
of  cactus,  standing  on  the  northern  side  of  the  pass.  Mount 
Gerizim  is  cultivated  nearly  to  the  top,  and  is  truly  a  moun- 
tain of  blessing,  compared  with  i^s  neighbor.  Through  an 
orchard  of  grand  old  olive-trees,  we  reached  Nablous,  which 
presented  a  charming  picture,  with  its  long  mass  of  white, 
dome-topped  stone  houses,  stretching  along  the  foot  of  Gerizim 
through  a  sea  of  bowery  orchards.  The  bottom  of  the  valley 
resembles  some  old  garden  run  to  waste.  Abundant  streams, 
poured  from  the  generous  heart  of  the  Mount  of  Blessing,  leap 


NABLOUS.  99 

and  gurgle  with  pleasant  noises  through  thickets  of  orange, 
fig,  and  pomegranate,  through  bowers  of  roses  and  tangled 
masses  of  briars  and  wild  vines.  We  halted  in  a  grove  of 
olives,  and,  after  our  tent  was  pitched,  walked  upward  througt 
the  orchards  to  the  Ras-el-Ain  (Promontory  of  the  Fountain). 
on  the  side  of  Mount  Gerizim.  A  multitude  of  beggars  sat 
at  the  city  gate  ;  and,  as  they  continued  to  clamor  after  I  had 
given  sufficient  alms,  I  paid  them  with  "Allah  deelek!" — (God 
give  it  to  you  I) — the  Moslem's  reply  to  such  importunity — 
and  they  ceased  in  an  instant.  This  exclamation,  it  seems, 
takes  away  from  them  the  power  of  demanding  a  second 
time. 

From  under  the  Ras-el-Ain  gushes  forth  the  Fountain  of 
Honey,  so  called  from  the  sweetness  and  purity  of  the  water. 
We  drank  of  it,  and  I  found  the  taste  very  agreeable,  but  my 
companion  declared  that  it  had  an  unpleasant  woolly  flavor. 
When  we  climbed  a  little  higher,  we  found  that  the  true  source 
from  which  the  fountain  is  supplied  was  above,  and  that  an 
Arab  was  washing  a  flock  of  sheep  in  it  1  We  continued  our 
walk  along  the  side  of  the  mountain  to  the  other  end  of  the 
sity,  through  gardens  of  almond,  apricot,  prune,  and  walnut- 
trees,  bound  each  to  each  by  great  vines,  whose  heavy  arms 
they  seemed  barely  able  to  support.  The  interior  of  the  town 
is  dark  and  filthy;  but  it  has  a  long,  busy  bazaar  extending 
its  whole  length,  and  a  caf6,  where  we  procured  the  best 
coffee  in  Syria. 

Nablous  is  noted  for  the  existence  of  a  small  remnant  of  the 
ancient  Samaritans.  The  stock  has  gradually  dwindled  away, 
and  amounts  to  only  forty  families,  containing  little  more  than 
a  hundred  and  fifty  individuals.  They  lire  in  a  particular 


THE    LANDS    OP    THE    SARACEN. 

.-juarter  of  the  city,  and  are  easily  distinguished  from  the  othci 
inhabitants  by  the  cast  of  their  features.  A.fter  our  guide,  8 
Dative  of  Nablous,  had  pointed  out  three  or  four,  I  had  cc 
difficulty  in  recognising  all  the  others  we  met.  They  hav« 
lone:,  but  not  prominent  noses,  like  the  Jews ;  small,  oblong 
eyes,  narrow  lips,  and  fair  complexions,  most  of  them  having 
brown  hair.  They  appear  to  be  held  in  considerable  obloquy 
by  the  Moslems.  Our  attendant,  who  was  of  the  low  class  ol 
Arabs,  took  the  boys  we  met  very  unceremoniously  by  the 
head,  calling  out :  "  Here  is  another  Samaritan  1"  He  then 
conducted  us  to  their  synagogue,  to  see  the  celebrated  Penta- 
teuch, which  is  there  preserved.  We  were  taken  to  a  small, 
open  court,  shaded  by  an  apricot-tree,  where  the  priest,  an  old 
man  in  a  green  robe  and  white  turban,  was  seated  in  medita- 
tion. He  had  a  long  grey  beard,  and  black  eyes,  that  lighted 
up  with  a  sudden  expression  of  eager  greed  when  we  promised 
him  backsheesh  for  a  sight  of  the  sacred  book.  He  arose  and 
took  us  into  a  sort  of  chapel,  followed  by  a  number  of  Samari- 
tan boys.  Kneeling  down  at  a  niche  in  the  wall,  he  produced 
from  behind  a  wooden  case  a  piece  of  ragged  parchment,  writ- 
ten with  Hebrew  characters.  But  the  guide  was  familiar  with 
this  deception,  and  rated  him  so  soundly  that,  after  a  little 
hesitation,  he  laid  the  fragment  away,  and  produced  a  large  tin 
cylinder,  covered  with  a  piece  of  green  satin  embroidered  iu 
gold.  The  boys  stooped  down  and  reverently  kissed  the 
blazoned  cover,  before  it  was  removed.  The  cylinder,  sliding 
open  by  two  rows  of  hinges,  opened  at  the  same  time  the 
parchment  scroll,  which  was  rolled  at  both  ends.  It  wa«; 
indeed,  a  very  ancient  manuscript,  and  in  remarkable  preserva- 
tion. The  rents  have  been  carefully  repaired  and  the  scroJ 


A     SCENE     IN    THE     SYNAGOGUE.  96 

aeatiy  stitched  upon  another  piece  of  parchment,  covered  ou 
the  outside  with  violet  satin.  The  priest  informed  me  that  it 
W&H  written  by  the  son  of  Aaron  ;  but  this  does  not  coincide 
with  the  fact  that  the  Samaritan  Pentateuch  is  different  from 
that  of  the  Jews.  It  is,  however,  no  doubt  one  of  the  oldest 
parchment  records  in  the  world,  and  thr  Samaritans  look  upon 
it  with  unbounded  faith  and  reverence.  The  Pentateuch, 
according  to  their  version,  contains  their  only  form  of  religion. 
They  reject  everything  else  which  the  Old  Testament  contains. 
Three  or  four  days  ago  was  their  grand  feast  of  sacrifice,  when 
they  made  a  burnt  offering  of  a  lamb,  on  the  top  of  Mount 
Gerizim.  Within  a  short  time,  it  is  said  they  have  shown 
some  curiosity  to  become  acquainted  with  the  New  Testament, 
and  the  High  Priest  sent  to  Jerusalem  to  procure  Arabic 
copies 

I  asked  one  of  the  wild-eyed  boys  whether  he  could  read  the 
sacred  book.  "  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  priest,  "all  these  boys  can 
read  it ;"  and  the  one  I  addressed  immediately  pulled  a  volume 
from  his  breast,  and  commenced  reading  in  fluent  Hebrew.  It 
appeared  to  be  a  part  of  their  church  service,  for  both  the 
priest  and  boab,  or  door-keeper,  kept  up  a  running  series  of 
responses,  and  occasionally  the  whole  crowd  shouted  out  some 
deep-mouthed  word  in  chorus.  The  old  man  leaned  forward 
with  an  expression  as  fixed  and  intense  as  if  the  text  had 
become  incarnate  in  him,  following  with  his  lips  the  sound  of 
the  boy's  voice.  It  was  a  strange  picture  of  religious  enthu- 
siasm, and  was  of  itself  sufficient  to  convince  me  of  the  legiti- 
macy of  the  Samaritan's  descent.  When  I  rose  to  leave  I  gave 
him  the  promised  fee,  and  a  smaller  one  to  the  boy  whc  read 
the  service.  This  was  the  signal  for  a  genera)  attack  from  tb<! 


96  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

door-keeper  and  all  the  boys  who  were  present.  They  sur 
rounded  ma  with  eyes  sparkling  with  the  desire  of  gain,  kissed 
the  border  of  my  jacket,  stroked  my  beard  coaxiugly  with  thaa 
hands,  which  they  then  kissed,  and,  crowding  up  with  a  bois 
terous  show  of  affection,  were  about  to  fall  on  my  neck  in  a 
heap,  after  the  old  Hebrew  fashion.  The  priest,  clamorous  for 
more,  followed  with  glowing  face,  and  the  whole  group  had  a 
riotous  and  bacchanalian  character,  which  I  should  never  have 
imagined  could  spring  from  such  a  passion  as  avarice. 

On  returning  to  our  camp,  we  found  Mentor  and  Telemachus 
arrived,  but  not  on  such  friendly  terms  as  their  Greek  proto- 
types. We  were  kept  awake  for  a  long  time  that  night  b} 
their  high  words,  and  the  first  sound  I  heard  the  next  morning 
caine  from  their  tent.  Telemachus,  I  suspect,  had  found  some 
island  of  Calypso,  and  did  not  relish  the  cold  shock  of  the 
plunge  into  the  sea,  by  which  Mentor  had  forced  him  away. 
He  insisted  on  returning  to  Jerusalem,  but  as  Mentor  would 
not  allow  him  a  horse,  he  had  not  the  courage  to  try  it  on  foot. 
After  a  series  of  altercations,  in  which  he  took  a  pistol  to 
shoot  the  dragoman,  and  applied  very  profane  terms  to  every 
body  in  the  company,  his  wrath  dissolved  into  tears,  and  when 
we  left,  Mentor  had  decided  to  rest  a  day  at  Nablous,  and  let 
him  recover  from  the  effects  of  the  storm. 

We  rode  down  the  beautiful  valley,  taking  the  road  to 
Sebaste  (Samaria),  while  our  luggage-mules  kept  directly  ovei 
she  mountains  to  Jenin.  Our  path  at  first  followed  the  course 
of  the  stream,  between  turfy  banks  and  through  luxuriant 
orchards.  The  whole  country  we  overlooked  was  planted  with 
olive-trees,  and,  except  the  very  summits  of  the  mountains, 
covered  with  grain-fields  For  two  hours  our  course  was 


THE     RUINS     OF     SAMARIA.  97 

north-east,  leading  over  the  hills,  and  now  and  then  dipping  into 
beautiful  dells.  In  one  of  these  a  large  stream  gushes  from 
the  earth  in  a  full  fountain,  at  the  foot  of  a  great  olive-tree. 
The  hill-side  above  it  was  a  complete  mass  of  foliage,  crowned 
with  the  white  walls  of  a  Syrian  village.  Descending  the  val- 
ley, which  is  very  deep,  we  came  in  sight  of  Samaria,  situated 
on  the  summit  of  an  isolated  hill.  The  sanctuary  of  the 
ancient  Christian  church  of  St.  John  towers  high  above  the 
mud  walls  of  the  modern  village.  Riding  between  olive- 
orchards  and  wheat-fields  of  glorious  richness  and  beauty,  we 
passed  the  remains  of  an  acqueduct,  and  ascended  the  hill 
The  ruins  of  the  church  occupy  the  eastern  summit.  Part  of 
them  have  been  converted  into  a  mosque,  which  the  Christian 
foot  is  not  allowed  to  profane.  The  church,  which  is  in  the 
Byzantine  style,  is  apparently  of  the  time  of  the  Crusaders. 
It  had  originally  a  central  and  two  side-aisles,  covered  with 
groined  Gothic  vaults.  The  sanctuary  is  semi-circular,  with  a 
row  of  small  arches,  supported  by  double  pillars.  The  church 
rests  on  the  foundations  of  some  much  more  ancient  building— 
probably  a  temple  belonging  to  the  Roman  city. 

Behind  the  modern  village,  the  hill  terminates  in  a  long, 
fchptical  mound,  about  one-third  of  a  mile  in  length.  We 
made  the  tour  of  it,  and  were  surprised  at  finding  a  large 
number  of  columns,  each  of  a  single  piece  of  marble.  They 
had  once  formed  a  double  colonnade,  extending  from  the 
church  to  a  gate  on  the  western  side  of  the  summit.  OUT 
native  guide  said  they  had  been  covered  with  an  arch  and 
constituted  a  long  market  or  bazaar — a  supposition  in  which  he 
may  be  correct.  From  the  g:ite,  which  is  still  distinctly 
marked,  we  overlooked  several  deep  valleys  to  the  west,  and 


98  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

OTer  them  all,  the  blue  horizon  of  the  Mediterranean,  south  ol 
Caesarea,  On  the  northern  side  of  the  hill  there  are  upwards 
of  twenty  more  pillars  standing,  besides  a  number  hurled 
down,  and  the  remains  of  a  quadrangular  colonnade,  on  the 
side  of  the  hill  below.  The  total  number  of  pillars  on  the 
summit  cannot  be  less  than  one  hundred,  from  twelve  to 
eighteen  feet  in  height.  The  hill  is  strewn,  even  to  its  base, 
with  large  hewn  blocks  and  fragments  of  sculptured  stone. 
The  present  name  of  the  city  was  given  to  it  by  Herod,  and  it 
must  have  been  at  that  time  a  most  stately  and  beautiful 
place. 

We  descended  to  a  valley  on  the  east,  climbed  a  long 
ascent,  and  after  crossing  the  broad  shoulder  of  a  mountain 
beyond,  saw  below  us  a  landscape  even  more  magnificent  than 
that  of  Xablous.  It  was  a  great  winding  valley,  its  bottom 
rolling  in  waves  of  wheat  and  barley,  while  every  hill-side,  up 
to  the  bare  rock,  was  mantled  with  groves  of  olive.  The  very 
summits  which  looked  into  this  garden  of  Israel,  were  green 
with  fragrant  plants — wild  thyme  and  sage,  guaphalium  and 
camomile.  Away  to  the  west  was  the  sea,  and  in  the  north- 
west the  mountain  chain  of  Carmel.  We  went  down  to  the 
gardens  and  pasture-land,  and  stopped  to  rest  at  the  Village 
of  Geba,  which  bangs  on  the  side  of  the  mountain.  A  spring 
of  whitish  but  delicious  water  gushed  out  of  the  soil,  iu  the 
midst  of  a  fig  orchard.  The  women  passed  us,  going  back  and 
forth  with  tall  water-jars  on  their  heads.  Some  herd-toys 
brought  dowu  a  flock  of  black  goats,  and  they  were  all  given 
drink  in  a  large  woodet  bowl.  They  were  beautiful  animals, 
with  thick  curved  horns,  white  eyes,  and  ears  a  foot  long.  Il 
was  a  truly  Biblical  picture  in  every  feature. 


**T,EST1NE    AND     CALIFORNIA.  90 

Beyond,  this  valley  we  passed  a  circular  basin,  which  has  no 
outlet,  so  that  in  winter  the  bottom  of  it  must  be  a  lake. 
After  winding  among  the  hills  an  hour  more,  we  came  out  upoe 
the  town  of  Jeniu,  a  Turkish  village,  with  a  tall  white  minaret, 
at  the  head  of  the  great  plain  of  Esdraelon.  It  is  supposed  to 
be  the  ancient  Jezreel,  where  the  termagant  Jezebel  was 
thrown  out  of  the  window.  We  pitched  our  tent  in  a  garden 
near  the  town,  under  a  beautiful  mulberry  tree,  and,  as  the 
place  is  in  very  bad  repute,  engaged  a  man  to  keep  guard  at 
night.  An  English  family  was  robbed  there  two  or  three 
weeks  ago.  Our  guard  did  his  duty  well,  pacing  back  and 
forth,  and  occasionally  grounding  his  musket  to  keep  up  his 
courage  by  the  sound.  In  the  evening,  Francois  caught  a 
chameleon,  a  droll-looking  little  creature,  which  changed  color 
in  a  marvellous  manner. 

Our  road,  next  day,  lay  directly  across  the  Plain  of  Esdrae- 
lon, one  of  the  richest  districts  in  the  world.  It  is  now  a 
greeu  sea,  covered  with  fields  of  wheat  and  barley,  or  great 
grazing  tracts,  on  which  multitudes  of  sheep  and  goats  are 
wandering.  In  some  respects  it  reminded  me  of  the  Valley 
of  San  Jose,  and  if  I  were  to  liken  -Palestine  to  any  othei 
country  I  have  seen,  it  would  be  California.  The  climate  and 
succession  of  the  seasons  are  the  same,  the  soil  is  very  similar 
in  quality,  and  the  landscapes  present  the  same  general 
features.  Here,  in  spring,  the  plains  are  covered  with  that 
deluge  of  floral  bloom,  which  makes  California  seem  a  paradiae. 
Here  there  are  the  same  picturesque  groves,  the  same  rark 
6elds  of  wild  oats  clothing  the  mountain-sides,  the  same 
aromatic  herbs  impregnating  the  air  with  balm,  and  above  all, 
ihe  same  blue,  cloudless  days  and  dewless  nights.  While 


100  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

travelling  here,  I  am  constantly  reminded  of  our  new  Syria  oc 
the  Pacific. 

Towards  noon,  Mount  Tabor  separated  itself  from  the  chain 
of  hills  before  us,  and  stood  out  singly,  at  the  extremity  of  the 
plain.  We  watered  our  horses  at  a  spring  in  a  swamp,  were 
some  women  were  collected,  beating  with  sticks  the  rushes 
they  had  gathered  to  make  mats.  After  reaching  the  moun- 
tains on  the  northern  side  of  the  plain,  an  ascent  of  an  hour 
and  a-half,  through  a  narrow  glen,  brought  us  to  Nazareth, 
which  is  situated  in  a  cul-de-sac,  under  the  highest  peaks  of 
the  range.  •  As  we  were  passing  a  rocky  part  of  the  road, 
Mr.  Harrison's  horse  fell  with  him  and  severely  injured  hig 
leg.  We  were  fortunately  near  our  destination,  and  on  reach- 
the  Latin  Convent,  Pra  Joachim,  to  whose  surgical  abilities 
the  traveller's  book  bore  witness,  took  him  in  charge.  Many 
others  besides  ourselves  have  had  reason  to  be  thankful  for  the 
good  offices  of  the  Latin  monks  in  Palestine.  I  have  never 
met  with  a  class  more  kind,  cordial,  and  genial.  All  the 
convents  are  bound  to  take  in  and  entertain  all  applicants — 
of  whatever  creed  or  nation — for  the  space  of  three  days. 

In  the  afternoon,  Pra  Joachim  accompanied  me  to  the 
Church  of  the  Virgin,  which  is  inclosed  within  the  walls  of  the 
convent.  It  is  built  over  the  supposed  site  of  the  house  in 
which  the  mother  of  Christ  was  living,  at  the  time  of  the 
angelic  annunciation.  Under  the  high  altar,  a  flight  of  steps 
leads  down  to  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin,  on  the  threshold  of  the 
house,  where  the  Angel  Gabriel's  foot  rested,  as  he  stood,  with 
a  lily  in  his  hand,  announcing  the  miraculous  conception.  The 
shrine,  of  white  marble  and  gold,  gleaming  in  the  light  of 
golden  lamps,  stands  under  a  rough  arch  of  the  natural  rock 


THE     SHRIKE     OF     TUT.     AN'M'VCIATION.  10] 

from  the  side  of  which  hangs  a  heavy  fragment  of  a  granite 
pillar,  suspended,  as  the  devout  believe,  by  divine  power.  Fra 
Joachim  informed  me  that,  when  the  Moslems  attempted  to 
obliterate  all  tokens  of  the  holy  place,  this  pillar  was  preserved 
by  a  miracle,  that  the  locality  might  not  be  lost  to  the  Chris- 
tians. At  the  same  time,  he  said,  the  angels  of  God  carried 
away  the  wooden  house  which  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the 
grotto  ;  and,  after  letting  it  drop  in  Marseilles,  whue  they 
rested,  picked  it  up  again  and  set  it  down  in  Loretto,  where  it 
still  remains.  As  he  said  this,  there  was  such  entire,  absolute 
belief  in  the  good  monk's  eyes,  and  such  happiness  in  that 
belief,  that  not  for  ten  times  the  gold  on  the  shrine  would  I 
have  expressed  a  doubt  of  the  story.  He  then  bade  me  kneel, 
that  I  might  see  the  spot  where  the  angel  stood,  and  devoutly 
repeated  a  paternoster  while  I  contemplated  the  pure  plate  of 
snowy  marble,  surrounded  with  vases  of  fragrant  flowers, 
between  which  hung  cressets  of  gold,  wherein  perfumed  oils 
were  burning.  All  the  decorations  of  the  place  conveyed  the 
idea  of  transcendent  purity  and  sweetness  ;  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  Palestine,  I  wished  for  perfect  faith  in  the  spot.  Behind 
the  shrine,  there  are  two  or  three  chambers  in  the  rock,  which 
served  as  habitations  for  the  family  of  the  Virgin, 

A  young  Christian  Nazarene  afterwards  conducted  me  to 
the  House  of  Joseph,  the  Carpenter,  which  is  now  inclosed  in 
a  little  chapel.  It  is  merely  a  fragment  of  wall,  undoubtedly 
as  old  as  the  time  of  Christ,  and  I  felt  willing  to  consider  it  a 
genuine  relic.  There  was  an  honest  roughness  about  the  large 
•tones,  inclosihg  a  small  room  called  the  carpenter's  shop, 
which  I  could  not  find  it  hi  my  heart  to  doubt.  Besides,  in  a 
quiet  country  'awn  like  Nazareth,  which  has  never  knowu 


>02  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

such  vicissitudes  as  Jerusalem,  much  more  dependence  can  b* 
placed  on  popular  tradition.  For  the  same  reason,  I  looked 
with  reverence  on  the  Table  of  Christ,  also  inclosed  •vithin  o 
chapel.  This  is  a  large,  natural  rock,  about  nine  feet  by 
twelve,  nearly  square,  and  quite  flat  on  the  top.  It  is  said 
that  it  once  served  as  a  table  for  Christ  and  his  Disciples.  The 
building  called  the  School  of  Christ,  where  he  went  with  other 
children  of  his  age,  is  now  a  church  of  the  Syrian  Christians, 
who  were  performing  a  doleful  mass,  in  Arabic,  at  the  tkne  of 
my  visit.  It  is  a  vaulted  apartment,  about  forty  feet  long,  and 
3nly  the  lower  part  of  the  wall  is  ancient.  At  each  of  these 
places,  the  Nazarene  put  into  my  hand  a  piece  of  pasteboard, 
on  which  was  printed  a  prayer  in  Latin,  Italian,  and  Arabic, 
with  the  information  that  whoever  visited  the  place,  and 
made  the  prayer,  would  be  entitled  to  seven  years'  indulgence 
I  duly  read  all  the  prayers,  and,  accordingly,  my  consciencs 
aught  to  be  at  rest  for  twenty-one  years. 


FROM     NAiiARETH. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    COUNTRY    OF    GALILEE 

Departure  from  Nazareth— A  Christian  Guide— Ascent  of  Mount  Tabor—  Wallachian 
Hermits— The  Panorama  of  Tabor— Ride  to  Tiberias— A  Bath  in  Genesareth— The 
Flowers  of  Galilee— The  Mount  of  Beatitude— Miigdala— Joseph's  Well— Meeting 
with  a  Turk— The  Fountain  of  the  Salt- Works— The  Upper  Valley  of  the  Jordan- 
Summer  Scenery— The  Rivers  of  Lebanon— Tell  el-Kadi— An  Arcadian  Region— Th« 
Fountains  of  Banias. 

"  Beyond  are  Bethulia's  mountains  of  green, 
And  the  desolate  hills  of  the  wild  Gadarene; 
And  I  pause  on  the  goat-crags  of  Tabor  to  see 
The  gleam  of  thy  waters,  O  dark  Galilee  !" — WHITTIM. 

BASIAS  (Cesarea  Philippi),  May  10,  1S59 

WE  left  Nazareth  on  the  morning  of  the  8th  inst.  Mj 
companion  had  done  so  well  under  the  care  of  Fra  Joachim 
that  he  was  able  to  ride,  and  our  journey  was  not  delayed  bj 
his  accident.  The  benedictions  of  the  good  Franciscans  accom- 
panied us  as  we  rode  away  from  the  Convent,  past  the  Foun- 
tain of  the  Virgin,  and  out  of  the  pleasant  little  valley  where 
the  boy  Jesus  wandered  for  many  peaceful  years.  The  Chris- 
tian guide  we  engaged  for  Mount  Tabor  had  gone  ahead,  and 
we  did  not  find  him  until  we  had  travelled  for  more  than  two 
hours  among  the  hills.  As  we  approached  the  sacred  moun- 
tain, we  came  upon  the  region  of  oaks — the  first  oak  I  had 
Been  since  leaving  Europe  last  auiuum.  There  are  three  or 
four  varieties,  some  with  evergreen  foliage,  and  in  their  wild 


104  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

luxuriance  and  the  picturesqueness  of  their  forms  and  grcnp 
»ngs,  they  resemble  those  of  California.  The  sea  of  grass  and 
flowers  in  which  they  stood  was  sprinkled  with  thick  tufts  of 
wild  oats — another  point  of  resemblance  to  the  latter  country 
But  here,  there  is  no  gold;  there,  no  sacred  memories 

The  guide  was  waiting  for  us  beside  a  spring,  among  tht 
trees.  He  was  a  tall  youth  of  about  twenty,  with  a  mild, 
submissive  face,  and  wore  the  dark-blue  turban,  which  appears 
to  be  the  badge  of  a  native  Syrian  Christian.  I  found  myself 
invol-mtarily  pitying  him  for  belonging  to  a  despised  sect. 
There  is  no  disguising  the  fact  that  one  feels  much  more 
respect  for  the  Mussulman  rulers  of  the  East,  than  for  their 
oppressed  subjects  who  profess  his  own  faith.  The  surest  way 
to  make  a  man  contemptible  is  to  treat  him  contemptuously, 
and  the  Oriental  Christians,  who  have  been  despised  for  centu- 
ries, are,  with  some  few  exceptions,  despicable  enough.  Now, 
however,  since  the  East  has  become  a  favorite  field  of  travel, 
and  the  Frank  possesses  an  equal  dignity  with  the  Moslem,  the 
native  Christians  are  beginning  to  hold  up  their  heads,  and  the 
return  of  self-respect  will,  in  the  course  of  time,  make  them 
respectable. 

Mount  Tabor  stands  a  little  in  advance  of  the  hill-country, 
frith  which  it  is  connected  only  by  a  low  spur  or  shoulder,  its 
base  being  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon.  This  is  probably  the 
reason  why  it  has  been  fixed  upon  as  the  place  of  the  Trans- 
figuration, as  it  is  not  mentioned  by  name  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment. The  words  are:  "  an  high  mountain  apart,"  which  some 
Buppose  to  refer  to  the  position  of  the  mountain,  and  not  to 
the  remoteness  of  Christ  and  the  three  Disdplcs  from  men, 
The  sides  of  the  mountain  are  covered  with  dumps  of  oak 


WALLACHIAN    HERMITS.  105 

hawthorn  and  other  trees,  in  many  places  overrun  with  the 
white  honeysuckle,  its  fingers  dropping  with  odor  of  nutmeg 
and  cloves.  The  ascent,  by  a  steep  and  winding  path,  occu 
pied  an  hour.  The  summit  is  nearly  level,  and  resembles  some 
overgrown  American  field,  or  "  oak  opening."  The  grass  is 
more  than  knee-deep  ;  the  trees  grow  high  and  strong,  and 
there  are  tangled  thickets  and  bowers  of  vines  without  end. 
The  eastern  and  highest  end  of  the  mountain  is  covered  with 
the  remains  of  an  old  fortress-convent,  once  a  place  of  great 
strength,  from  the  thickness  of  its  walls.  In  a  sort  of  cell 
formed  among  the  ruins  we  found  two  monk-hermits.  I 
addressed  them  in  all  languages  of  which  I  know  a  salutation, 
without  effect,  but  at  last  made  out  that  they  were  Walla- 
chians.  They  were  men  of  thirty-five,  with  stupid  faces,  dirty 
garments,  beards  run  to  waste,  and  fur  caps.  Their  cell  was  a 
mere  hovel,  without  furniture,  except  a  horrid  caricature  of 
the  Virgin  and  Child,  and  four  books  of  prayers  in  the  Bulga- 
rian character.  One  of  them  walked  about  knitting  a  stock- 
ing, and  paid  no  attention  to  us  ;  but  the  other,  after  giving 
us  some  deliriously  cold  water,  got  upon  a  pile  of  rubbish,  and 
stood  regarding  us  with  opeu  mouth  while  we  took  breakfast. 
So  far  from  this  being  a  cause  of  annoyance,  I  felt  really  glad 
that  our  presence  had  agitated  the  stagnant  waters  of  hit 
mind. 

The  day  was  hazy  and  sultry,  but  the  panoramic  view  irom 
Mount  Tabor  was  still  very  fine.  The  great  Plain  of  Esdraelon 
lay  below  us  like  a  vast  mosaic  of  green  and  brown — jasper 
and  verd-antique.  On  the  west,  Mount  Carmel  lifted  his  head 
above  the  blue  horizon  line  of  the  Mediterranean.  Turning  to 
the  other  side,  a  strip  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  glimmered  deep 

6* 


106  THE    I.ANDS    OF    THE    SARACKir. 

down  among  the  hills,  and  the  Ghor,  or  the  Valley  ot  the 
Jordan,  stretched  like  a  broad  gash  through  them.  Beyond 
them,  the  country  of  Djebel  Adjeloun,  the  ancient  Decapoiis, 
which  still  holds  the  walls  of  Gadara  and  the  temples  and 
theatres  of  Djerash,  faded  away  into  vapor,  and,  still  further 
to  the  south,  the  desolate  hills  of  Gilead,  the  home  of  Jeph 
thah.  Mount  Hermon  is  visible  when  the  atmosphere  is  clear 
but  we  were  not  able  to  see  it. 

From  the  top  of  Mount  Tabor  to  Tiberias,  on  the  Sea  of 
Galilee,  is  a  journey  of  five  hours,  through  a  wild  country, 
with  but  one  single  miserable  village  on  the  road.  At  first 
we  rode  through  lonely  dells,  grown  with  oak  and  brilliant 
with  flowers,  especially  the  large  purple  mallow,  and  then  over 
broad,  treeless  tracts  of  rolling  land,  but  partially  cultivated. 
The  heat  was  very  great  ;  I  had  no  thermometer,  but  should 
judge  the  temperature  to  have  been  at  least  95°  in  the  shade. 
From  the  edge  of  the  upland  tract,  we  looked  down  on  the 
Sea  of  Galilee — a  beautiful  sheet  of  water  sunk  among  the 
mountains,  and  more  than  300  feet  below  the  level  of  the 
Mediterranean.  It  lay  unruffled  in  the  bottom  of  the  basin, 
reflecting  the  peaks  of  the  bare  red  mountains  beyond  it. 
Tiberias  was  at  our  very  feet,  a  few  palm  trees  alone  relieving 
the  nakedness  of  its  dull  walls.  After  taking  a  welcome  drink 
at  the  Fountain  of  Fig-trees,  we  descended  to  the  town,  which 
has  a  desolate  and  forlorn  air.  Its  walls  have  been  partly 
thrown  down  by  earthquakes,  and  never  repaired.  We  found 
our  tents  already  pitched  on  the  bank  above  the  lake,  and 
ander  one  of  the  tottering  towers. 

Not  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring  ;  the  red  hills  smouldered 
in  the  heat,  and  the  waters  of  Ginesareth  at  our  feet  glim 


A     BATH     IN     GENESARETH  10T 

caered  with  an  oily  smoothness,  unbroken  by  a  ripple.  We 
untwisted  our  turbans,  kicked  off  our  baggy  trowsers,  and 
speedily  releasing  ourselves  from  the  barbarous  restraints  of 
iress,  dipped  into  the  tepid  sea  and .  floated  lazily  out  until  we 
could  feel  the  exquisite  coldness  of  the  living  springs  which 
sent  up  their  jets  from  the  bottom.  I  was  lying  on  my  back, 
moving  my  fins  just  sufficiently  to  keep  afloat,  and  gazing 
dreamily  through  half-closed  eyes  on  the  forlorn  palms  of 
Tiberias,  when  a  shrill  voice  hailed  me  with :  "  0  Howadji, 
get  out  of  our  way  1"  There,  at  the  old  stone  gateway  below 
our  tent,  stood  two  Galilean  damsels,  with  heavy  earthen  jars 
upon  their  heads.  "  Go  away  yourselves,  0  maidens  1"  1 
answered,  "  if  you  want  us  to  come  out  of  the  water."  "  But 
>ve  must  fill  our  pitchers,  *  one  of  them  replied.  "Then  fill 
them  at  once,  and  be  not  afraid  ;  or  leave  them,  and  we  will 
fill  them  for  you."  Thereupon  they  put  the  pitchers  down,  but 
remained  watching  us  very  complacently  while  we  sank  the 
vessels  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  and  let  them  fill  from  the 
Bolder  and  purer  tide  of  the  springs  In  bringing  them  back 
through  the  water  to  the  gate,  the  one  I  propelled  before  me 
happened  to  strike  against  a  stone,  and  its  fair  owner,  on 
receiving  it,  immediately  pointed  to  a  crack  in  the  side,  which 
she  declared  I  had  made,  and  went  off  lamenting.  After  we 
had  resumed  our  garments,  and  were  enjoying  the  pipe  of 
indolence  and  the  coffee  of  contentment,  she  returned  and 
made  such  an  outcry,  that  I  was  fain  to  purchase  peace  by  the 
price  of  a  new  pitcher.  I  passed  the  first  hours  of  the  night 
iu  looking  out  of  my  tent-door,  as  I  lay,  on  the  stars  sparkling 
in  the  bosom  of  Galilee,  like  the  sheen  of  Assyrian  spears,  and 
the  glare  of  the  great  fires  kindled  on  the  opposite  shore 


108  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

The  next  day,  we  travelled  northward  along  the  lake, 
passing  through  continuous  thickets  of  oleander,  fragrant  with 
ite  heavy  pink  blossoms.  The  thistles  were  more  abundant 
and  beautiful  than  ever.  I  noticed,  in  particular,  one  with  a 
superb  globular  flower  of  a  bright  blue  color,  which  would 
make  a  choice  ornament  for  our  gardens  at  home.  At  the 
north-western  head  of  the  lake,  the  mountains  fall  back  and 
leave  a  large  tract  of  the  richest  meadow-laud,  which  narrows 
away  into  a  deep  dell,  overhung  by  high  mountain  headlands, 
faced  with  naked  cliffs  of  red  rock.  The  features  of  the  land- 
scape are  magnificent.  Up  the  dell,  I  saw  plainly  the  Mount 
of  Beatitude,  beyond  which  lies  the  village  of  Cana  of  Galilee. 
In  coming  up  the  meadow,  we  passed  a  miserable  little  village 
of  thatched  mud  huts,  almost  hidden  by  the  rank  weeds  which 
grew  around  them.  A  withered  old  crone  sat  at  one  of  the 
doors,  sunning  herself.  "  What  is  the  name  of  this  village  ?" 
I  asked.  "  It  is  Mejdel,"  was  her  reply.  This  was  the 
ancient  Magdala,  the  home  of  that  beautiful  but  sinful  Mag- 
dalene, whose  repentance  has  made  her  one  of  the  brightest  of 
the  Saints.  The  crystal  waters  of  the  lake  here  lave  a  shore 
of  the  cleanest  pebbles.  The  path  goes  winding  through  olean- 
ders, uebbuks,  patches  of  hollyhock,  anise-seed,  fennel,  and 
other  spicy  plants,  while,  on  the  west,  great  fields  of  barley 
stand  ripe  for  the  cutting.  In  some  places,  the  Fellahs,  men 
and  women,  were  at  work,  reaping  and  binding  the  sheaves. 
After  crossing  this  tract,  we  came  to  the  hill,  at  the  foot  of 
which  was  a  ruined  khan,  and  on  the  summit,  other  undistui- 
guishable  ruins,  supposed  by  some  to  be  those  of  Capernaum 
The  site  of  that  exalted  town,  however,  is  still  a  matter  of 
discussion 


MEETING     WITH     A    TURK  109 

We  journeyed  on  in  a  most  sweltering  atmosphere  over  the 
ascending  hills,  the  valley  of  the  Upper  Jordan  lying  deep  or 
our  right.  In  a  shallow  hollow,  under  one  of  the  highesl 
peaks,  there  stands  a  large  deserted  khan,  over  a  well  of  verj 
cold,  sweet  water,  called  Bir  Youssuf  by  the  Arabs.  Some 
where  near  it,  according  to  tradition,  is  the  field  where  Josepl 
was  sold  by  his  brethren ;  and  the  well  is,  no  doubt,  looked 
upon  by  many  as  the  identical  pit  into  which  he  was  thrown 
A  stately  Turk  of  Damascus,  with  four  servants  behind  him, 
came  riding  up  as  we  were  resting  in  the  gateway  of  the  khan, 
and,  in  answer  to  my  question,  informed  me  that  the  well  was 
so  named  from  Nebbee  Youssuf  (the  Prophet  Joseph),  and  not 
from  Sultan  Joseph  Saladiu.  He  took  us  for  his  countrymen, 
accosting  me  first  in  Turkish,  and,  even  after  I  had  talked  with 
him  some  time  in  bad  Arabic,  asked  me  whether  I  had  been 
making  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tombs  of  certain  holy  Moslem  saints, 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Jaffa,  He  joined  company  with  us,  how- 
ever, and  shared  his  pipe  with  me,  as  we  continued  our  journey. 
We  rode  for  two  hours  more  over  hills  bare  of  trees,  but 
',overed  thick  with  grass  and  herbs,  and  finally  lost  our  way. 
Francois  went  ahead,  dashing  through  the  fields  of  barley  and 
lentils,  and  we  reached  the  path  again,  as  the  Waters  of 
Merom  came  in  sight.  We  then  descended  into  the  Valley  of 
the  Upper  Jordan,  and  encamped  opposite  the  lake,  at  Ain  el 
Mellaha  (the  Fountain  of  the  Salt-Works),  the  first  source  of 
the  sacred  river.  A  stream  of  water,  sufficient  to  turn  half-a 
dozen  mills,  gushes  and  gurgles  ap  at  the  foot  cf  the  mountain 
There  are  the  remains  of  an  ancient  dam,  by  which  a  large 
pool  was  formed  for  the  irrigation  of  the  valley.  It  still  sup- 
plies a  little  Arab  mill  below  the  fountain.  This  is  a  frontiei 


110  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEX 

post,  between  the  jurisdictions  of  the  Pashas  of  Jerusalem 
and  Damascus,  and  the  mukkairee  of  the  Greek  Caioyer,  whc 
left  us  at  Tiberias,  was  obliged  to  pay  a  duty  of  seven  aud  i 
half  piastres  on  fifteen  mats,  which  he  had  bought  at  Jerusa- 
lem for  one  and  a  half  piastres  each.  The  poor  man  will 
perhaps  make  a  dozen  piastres  (about  half  a  dollar)  on  these 
mats  at  Damascus,  after  carrying  them  on  his  mule  for  more 
than  two  hundred  miles. 

We  pitched  our  tents  on  the  grassy  meadow  below  the 
mill — a  charming  spot,  with  Tell  el-Khaiizir  (the  hill  of  wild 
boars)  just  iu  front,  over  the  Waters  of  Merom,  and  the  snow- 
streaked  summit  of  Djebel  esh-Shekh — the  great  Mount  Her- 
mon — towering  high  above  the  valley.  This  is  the  loftiest 
peak  of  the  Anti-Lebanon,  and  is  10,000  feet  above  the  sea. 
The  next  morning,  we  rode  for  three  hours  before  reaching  the 
second  spring  of  the  Jordan,  at  a  place  which  Francois  called 
Tell  el-Kadi,  but  which  did  not  at  all  answer  with  the  descrip- 
tion given  me  by  Dr.  Robinson,  at  Jerusalem.  The  upper 
part  of  the  broad  valley,  whence  the  Jordan  draws  his  waters, 
is  flat,  moist,  and  but  little  cultivated.  There  are  immense 
herds  of  sheep,  goats,  and  buffaloes  wandering  over  it.  The 
people  are  a  dark  Arab  tribe,  and  live  in  tents  and  miserable 
clay  huts.  Where  the  valley  begins  to  slope  upward  towards 
the  hills,  they  plant  wheat,  barley,  and  lentils.  The  soil  is  the 
fattest  brown  loam,  aud  the  harvests  are  wonderfully  rich.  I 
jaw  many  tracts  of  wheat,  from  half  A  mile  to  a  mile  in  extent, 
which  would  average  forty  bushels  to  the  acre.  Yet  the 
ground  is  never  manured,  aud  the  Arab  plough  scratches  up 
bit  a  few  inches  of  the  surface.  What  a  paradise  might  be 
made  of  this  country,  were  it  in  better  hands  I 


THE     STREAMS     OP     LEBANON.  Ill 

The  second  spring  is  not  quite  so  large  as  Ain  el-Mellaha 
but,  like  it,  pours  out  a  stiong  stream  from  a  single  source 
Ttie  pool  wa9*filled  with  women,  washing  the  heavy  fleeces  o: 
their  sheep,  and  beating  the  dirt  out  of  their  striped  camel's 
hair  abas  with  long  poles  We  left  it,  and  entered  on  a  slope 
of  stony  ground,  forming  the  head  of  the  valley.  The  view 
extended  southward,  to  the  mountains  closing  the  northeru 
cove  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  It  was  a  grand,  rich  landscape — 
so  rich  that  its  desolation  seems  forced  and  unnatural.  High 
on  the  summit  of  a  mountain  to  the  west,  the  ruins  of  a  large 
Crusader  fortress  looked  down  upon  us.  The  soil,  which 
slowly  climbs  upward  through  a  long  valley  between  Lebanon 
and  Anti-Lebanon,  is  cut  with  deep  ravines.  The  path  is  very 
difficult  to  find  ;  and  while  we  were  riding  forward  at  random, 
looking  in  all  directions  for  our  baggage  mules,  we  started  up 
a  beautiful  gazelle.  At  last,  about  noon,  hot,  hungry,  and 
thirsty,  we  reached  a  swift  stream,  roaring  at  the  bottom  of  a 
deep  ravine,  through  a  bed  of  gorgeous  foliage.  The  odor  of 
the  wild  grape-blossoms,  which  came  up  to  us,  as  we  rode  along 
the  edge,  was  overpowering  in  its  sweetness.  An  old  bridge 
of  two  arches  crossed  the  stream.  There  was  a  pile  of  rocks 
against  the  central  pier,  and  there  we  sat  and  took  breakfast 
in  the  shade  of  the  maples,  while  the  cold  green  waters  foamed 
at  our  feet.  By  all  the  Naiads  and  Tritons,  what  a  joy  there 
is  in  beholding  a  running  stream  !  The  rivers  of  Lebanon  are 
miracles  to  me,  after  my  knowledge  of  the  Desert.  A  com 
pany  of  Arabs,  seven  in  all,  were  gathered  under  the  bridge  • 
and,  from  a  flute  which  one  of  them  blew,  I  judged  they  were 
taking  a  pastoral  holiday.  We  kept  our  pistx  Js  beside  us ;  for 
we  did  not  like  their  looks  Before  leaving,  they  told  us  that 


(It  THE    LANDS     OF    THE     SARACEN. 

the  country  was  full  of  robbers,  and  advised  us  to  be  or  th» 
lookout.  We  rode  more  carefully,  after  this,  and  kept  with 
our  baggage  on  reaching  it.  An  hour  after  leaving  the  bridge, 
we  came  to  a  large  circular,  or  rather  annular  mound,  over 
grown  with  knee-deep  grass  and  clumps  of  oak-trees.  A  large 
stream,  of  a  bright  blue  color,  gushed  down  the  north  side, 
and  after  half  embracing  the  mound  swept  off  across  the 
meadows  to  the  Waters  of  Merom.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
that  this  was  Tell  el-Kadi,  the  site  of  Dan,  the  most  northern 
town  of  ancient  Israel.  The  mound  on  which  it  was  built  is 
the  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano.  The  Hebrew  word  Dan 
signifies  "judge,"  and  Tell  el-Kadi,  in  Arabic,  is  "The  Hill  ot 
the  Judge." 

The  Anti-Lebanon  now  rose  near  us,  its  northern  and 
western  slopes  green  with  trees  and  grass.  The  first  range, 
perhaps  5,000  feet  in  height,  shut  out  the  snowy  head  of  Her 
mon  ;  but  still  the  view  was  sublime  in  its  large  and  harmoni- 
ous outlines.  Our  road  was  through  a  country  resembling 
Arcadia — the  earth  hidden  by  a  dense  bed  of  grass  and 
flowers ;  thickets  of  blossoming  shrubs ;  old,  old  oaks,  with 
the  most  gnarled  of  trunks,  the  most  picturesque  of  boughs, 
and  the  glossiest  of  green  leaves ;  olive-trees  of  amazing  anti- 
quity; and,  threading  and  enlivening  all,  the  clear-cold  floods 
of  Lebanon.  This  was  the  true  haunt  of  Pan,  whose  altars 
are  now  before  me,  graven  on  the  marble  crags  of  Hermou, 
Looking  on  those  altars,  and  on  the  landscape,  lovely  as  a 
Grecian  dream,  I  forget  that  the  lament  has  long  been  sung : 
"  Pan,  Pan  is  dead  1" 

In  another  hour,  we  reached  this  place,  the  ancient  Csesaret 
Philippi,  now  a  poor  village,  cm  1  lowered  in  magnificent  trees. 


BANIAS.  118 

and  washed  by  glorious  waters.  There  are  abundant  remains 
of  the  old  city  :  fragments  of  immense  walls ;  broker,  granite 
columns ;  traces  of  pavements  ;  great  blocks  of  hewn  stone ; 
marble  pedestals,  and  the  like.  In  the  rock  at  the  foot,  of  the 
mountain,  there  are  several  elegant  niches,  with  Greek  inscrip- 
tions, besides  a  large  natural  grotto.  Below  them,  the  water 
gushes  up  through  the  stones,  in  a  hundred  streams,  forming 
a  flood  of  considerable  size.  We  have  made  our  camp  in  an 
olive  grove  near  the  end  of  the  village,  beside  an  immense 
terebinth  tree,  which  is  inclosed  in  an  open  court,  paved  with 
stone.  This  is  the  town-hall  of  Banias,  where  the  Shekh  dis- 
penses justice,  and  at  the  same  time,  the  resort  of  all  the  idlers 
of  the  place.  We  went  up  among  them,  soon  after  our  arrival, 
and  were  given  seats  of  honor  near  the  Shekh,  who  talked  with 
me  a  long  time  about  America.  The  people  exhibit  a  very 
sensible  curiosity,  desiring  to  know  the  extent  of  our  country, 
the  number  of  inhabitants,  the  amount  of  taxation,  the  price 
of  grain,  and  other  solid  information. 

The  Shekh  and  the  men  of  the  place  inform  us  that  the 
Druses  are  infesting  the  road  to  Damascus.  This  tribe  is  in 
rebellion  in  Djebel  Hauarau,  on  account  of  the  conscription, 
and  some  of  them,  it  appears,  have  taken  refuge  in  the  fast- 
nesses of  Hermon,  where  they  are  beginning  to  plunder  tra- 
vellers. While  I  was  talking  with  the  Shekh,  a  Druse  came 
down  from  the  mountains,  and  sat  for  half  an  hour  among  the 
villagers,  under  the  terebinth,  and  we  have  just  heard  that  h<c 
has  gone  back  the  way  he  came.  This  fact  has  given  us  some 
anxiety,  as  he  may  have  been  a  spy  sent  down  to  gather  news 
and,  if  so,  we  are  almost  certain  to  be  waylaid.  If  we  were 
well  armed,  w*  should  not  fear  a  dozen,  but  all  our  weapons 


114  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

consist  of  a  sword  and  font  pistols.  After  consulting  toge 
ther,  we  decided  to  apply  to  the  Shekh  for  two  armed  men,  tc 
accompany  us.  I  accordingly  went  to  him  again,  and  exhibited 
the  firman  of  the  Pasha  of  Jerusalem,  which  he  read,  stating 
that,  even  without  it,  he  would  have  felt  it  his  duty  to  grant 
our  request.  This  is  the  graceful  way  in  which  the  Orientals 
submit  to  a  peremptory  order.  He  thinks  that  one  man  will 
be  sufficient,  as  we  shall  probably  not  meet  with  any  large 
party. 

The  day  has  been,  and  still  is,  excessively  hot.  The  atmos- 
phere is  sweltering,  and  all  around  us,  over  the  thick  patches  of 
mallow  and  wild  mustard,  the  bees  are  humming  with  a  con- 
tinuous sultry  sound.  The  Shekh,  with  a  number  of  lazj 
villagers,  is  still  seated  under  the  terebinth,  in  a  tent  of  shade, 
impervious  to  the  sun.  I  can  hear  the  rush  of  the  fountains  of 
Banias — the  holy  springs  of  Hermon,  whence  Jordan  is  born 
But  what  is  this  ?  The  odor  of  the  velvety  weed  of  Shiraz 
meets  my  nostrils  ;  a  dark-eyed  son  of  Pan  places  the  narghi- 
leh  at  my  feet ;  and,  bubbling  more  sweetly  than  the  streams 
of  Jordan,  the  incense  most  dear  to  the  god  dims  the  crystal 
censer,  and  floats  from  my  lips  in  rhythmic  ejaculations.  I, 
too,  am  in  Arcadia  t 


CASJLRSA     PHILIPPI  116 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

CROSSING     THE     ANTI-LEBANON. 

The  Harmless  Guard— Csesarea  Philippl — The  Valley  of  the  Druses— The  Sides  r.  Mount 
Hermon — AD  Alarm — Threading  a  Defile — Distant  view  of  Djebel  Hauaran — Anethe 
Alarm — Camp  at  Katana — We  Ride  Into  Damascus. 

DAMASCUS,  May  12, 1808. 

WE  rose  early,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  a  long  march.  The 
guard  came — a  mild-looking  Arab — without  arms  ;  but  on  ou? 
refusing  to  take  him  thus,  he  brought  a  Turkish  musket,  terri- 
ble to  behold,  but  quite  guiltless  of  any  murderous  intent. 
We  gave  ourselves  up  to  fate,  with  true  Arab  resignation,  and 
began  ascending  the  Anti-Lebanon.  Up  and  up,  by  stonj 
paths,  under  the  oaks,  beside  the  streams,  and  between  the 
wheat-fields,  we  climbed  for  two  hours,  and  at  last  reached  a 
comb  or  dividing  ridge,  whence  we  could  look  into  a  valley  on 
the  other  side,  or  rather  inclosed  between  the  main  chain  and 
the  offshoot  named  Djebel  Heish,  which  stretches  away  towards 
the  south-east.  About  half-way  up  the  ascent,  we  passed  th< 
ruined  acropolis  of  Caesarea  Philippi,  crowning  the  summit  ot 
a  lower  peak.  The  walls  and  bastions  cover  a  great  extent  of 
ground,  and  were  evidently  used  as  a  stronghold  in  the  Middl« 
Ages. 


I  1 6  THE     LANDS     OF    THE     SARACKN. 

The  valley  into  which  we  descended  lay  directly  inder  01  i 
of  the  peaks  of  Herraon  and  the  rills  that  watered  it  were  fed 
from  his  snow-fields.  It  was  inhabited  by  Druses,  but  no  men 
were  to  be  seen,  except  a  few  poor  husbandmen,  ploughing  or 
the  mountain-sides.  The  women,  wearing  those  enormous 
horns  oil  their  heads  which  distinguish  them  from  the  Moliam 
rnedan  females,  were  washing  at  a  pool  below.  We  crossed 
the  valley,  and  slowly  ascended  the  height  on  the  oppo- 
site side,  taking  care  to  keep  with  the  baggage-mules.  Up  tc 
this  time,  we  met  very  few  persons  ;  and  we  forgot  the  antici- 
pated perils  in  contemplating  the  rugged  scenery  of  the  Anti- 
Lebanon.  The  mountain-sides  were  brilliant  with  flowers,  and 
many  new  and  beautiful  specimens  arrested  our  attention.  The 
asphodel  grew  in  bunches  beside  the  streams,  and  the  largo 
scarlet  anemone  outshone  even  the  poppy,  whose  color  here  is 
the  quintessence  of  flame.  Five  hours  after  leaving  Banias, 
we  reached  the  highest  part  of  the  pass — a  dreary  volcanic 
region,  covered  with  fragments  of  lava.  Just  at  this  place, 
an  old  Arab  met  us,  and,  after  scanning  us  closely,  stopped 
and  accosted  Dervish.  The  latter  immediately  came  running 
ahead,  quite  excited  with  the  news  that  the  old  man  had  seen 
a  company  of  about  fifty  Druses  descend  from  the  sides  of 
Mount  Hermon,  towards  the  road  we  were  to  travel.  We 
immediately  ordered  the  baggage  to  halt,  and  Mr.  Harrison, 
FraugoiB,  and  myself  rode  on  to  reconnoitre.  Our  guard,  the 
valiant  man  of  Banias,  whose  teeth  already  chattered  witb 
fear,  prudently  kept  with  the  baggage.  We  crossed  the  ridge 
and  watched  the  stony  mountain-sides  for  some  time  ;  but  nc 
spear  or  glittering  gun-barrel  could  we  see.  The  caravan  was 
then  set  in  motion  ;  and  we  had  not  proceeded  far  before  wi 


VIEW     FROM    THE     ANTI-LEBANON.  Ill 

met  a  second  company  of  Arabs,  who  informed  us  that  th» 
road  was  free. 

Leaving  the  heig'its,  we  descended  cautiously  into  a  ravine 
with  walls  of  rough  volcanic  rock  on  each  side.  It  was  a  pass 
where  three  men  might  have  stood  their  ground  against  a 
hundred ;  and  we  did  not  feel  thoroughly  convinced  of  our 
safety  till  we  had  threaded  its  many  windings  and  emerged 
upon  a  narrow  valley.  A  village  called  Beit  Jenn  nestled 
under  the  rocks ;  and  below  it,  a  grove  of  poplar-trees  shaded 
the  banks  of  a  rapid  stream.  We  had  now  fairly  crossed  the 
Anti-Lebanon.  The  dazzling  snows  of  Mount  Hermon  over- 
hung us  on  the  west ;  and,  from  the  opening  of  the  valley,  we 
looked  across  a  wild,  waste  country,  to  the  distant  range  of 
Djebel  Hauaran,  the  seat  of  the  present  rebellion,  and  one  of 
the  most  interesting  regions  of  Syria.  I  regretted  more  than 
ever  not  being  able  to  reach  it.  The  ruins  of  Bozrah,  Ezra, 
and  other  ancient  cities,  would  well  repay  the  arduous  charac- 
ter of  the  journey,  while  the  traveller  might  succeed  in  getting 
some  insight  into  the  life  and  habits  of  that  singular  people, 
the  Druses.  But  now,  and  perhaps  for  some  time  to  come, 
there  is  no  chance  of  entering  the  Hauaran. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  we  reached  a  large 
village,  which  is  usually  the  end  of  the  first  day's  journey  from 
Banias.  Our  men  wanted  to  stop  here,  but  we  considered 
that  to  halt  then  would  be  to  increase  the  risk,  and  decided  to 
push  on  to  Katana,  four  hours'  journey  from  Damascus.  They 
yielded  with  a  bad  grace ;  and  we  jogged  on  over  the  stony 
road,  crossing  the  long  hills  which  form  the  eastern  base  of  the 
Anti-Lebanon.  Before  long,  another  Arab  met  us  with  the 
news  that  there  was  an  encampment  of  Druses  on  the  plain 


118  THE    LAN1S    OF    THE    SARACEN 

between  us  and  Katana.  At  this,  our  guard,  who  had  reco 
vered  sufficient  spirit  to  ride  a  few  paces  in  advance,  fell  back, 
and  the  impassive  Dervish  became  greatly  agitated.  Where 
there  is  an  uncertain  danger,  it  is  always  better  to  go  ahead 
than  to  turn  back  ;  and  we  did  so.  But  the  guard  reined  up 
on  the  top  of  the  first  ridge,  trembling  as  he  pointed  to  a  dis- 
tant hill,  and  cried  out :  "AJio,  ahb  henak!"  (There  they  are  I) 
There  were,  in  fact,  the  shadows  of  some  rocks,  which  bore  a 
faint  resemblance  to  tents.  Before  sunset,  we  reached  the  last 
declivity  of  the  mountains,  and  saw  far  in  the  dusky  plain,  the 
long  green  belt  of  the  gardens  of  Damascus,  and  here  and 
there  the  indistinct  glimmer  of  a  minaret.  Katana,  our  rest- 
ing-place for  the  night,  lay  below  us,  buried  in  orchards  of  olive 
and  orange.  We  pitched  our  tents  on  the  banks  of  a  beautiful 
stream,  enjoyed  the  pipe  of  tranquillity,  after  our  long  march, 
and  soon  forgot  the  Druses,  in  a  slumber  that  lasted  unbroken 
till  dawn. 

In  the  morning  we  sent  back  the  man  of  Banias,  left  the 
baggage  to  take  care  of  itself,  and  rode  on  to  Damascus,  as 
fast  as  our  tired  horses  could  carry  us.  The  plain,  at  first 
barren  and  stony,  became  enlivened  with  vineyards  and  fields 
cf  wheat,  as  we  advanced.  Arabs  were  everywhere  at  work, 
ploughing  and  directing  the  water-courses.  The  belt  of  living 
green,  the  bower  in  which  the  great  city,  the  Queen  of  the 
Orient,  hides  her  beauty,  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  stretching 
out  a  crescent  of  foliage  for  miles  on  either  hand,  that  gra 
dually  narrowed  and  received  us  into  its  cool  and  fragrant 
heart.  We  sank  into  a  sea  of  olive,  pomegranate,  orange, 
plum,  apricot,  walnut,  and  plane  trees,  and  were  lost.  The 
sun  sparkled  in  the  rolling  surface  above  •  but  we  swam 


THE  REVOLT  OF  THE  DRU8WS.  119 

through  the  green  depths,  below  his  reach,  and  thus,  drifted 
on  through  miles  of  shade,  entered  the  city. 

Since  our  arrival,  I  find  that  two  other  parties  of  travellers, 
one  of  which  crossed  the  Anti-Lebanon  on  the  northern  side  of 
Mount  Hermon,  were  obliged  to  take  guards,  and  saw  several 
Druse  spies  posted  on  the  heights,  as  they  passed.  A  Russian 
gentleman  travelling  from  here  to  Tiberias,  was  stopped  three 
times  on  the  road,  and  only  escaped  being  plundered  from  the 
fact  of  his  having  a  Druse  dragoman.  The  disturbances  are 
more  serious  than  I  had  anticipated.  Four  regiments  left  here 
yesterday,  sent  to  the  aid  of  a  company  of  cavalry,  which  is 
surrounded  by  the  rebels  in  a  valley  of  Dejebel  Hanaran,  and 
unable  to  get  oat. 


(20  THE    LANDS     OF    THK    8ABACBM. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

PICTURES     OF     DAMASCUS. 

Damascus  from  the  Anti-Lebanon — Entering  the  City — A  Diorama  of  Bazaars-  •  Ai 
Oriental  Hotel— Our  Chamber — The  Bazaars — Pipes  and  Coffee — The  Rivers  o) 
Damascus — Palaces  of  the  Jews — Jewish  Ladies — A  Christian  Gentleman — The  8»cre 
Localltieb — Damascus  Blades — The  Sword  of  Haroun  Al-Raschid — An  Arrival  frot; 
Palmyra. 

"  Are  not  Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than  ail  the  waters  <  - 
taraelT»-8  KINGS,  v.  12. 

DAMASCUS,  WcilnescUiy,  May  19, 1S52. 

DAMASCUS  is  considered  by  many  travellers  as  the  best  remain 
ing  type  of  an  Oriental  city.  Constantinople  is  semi-European: 
Cairo  is  fast  becoming  so ;  but  Damascus,  away  from  the 
highways  of  commerce,  seated  alone  between  the  Lebanon  and 
the  Syrian  Desert,  still  retains,  in  its  outward  aspect  and  in 
the  character  of  its  inhabitants,  all  the  pride  and  fancy  and 
fanaticism  of  the  times  of  the  Caliphs  With  this  judgment, 
in  general  terms,  I  agree  ;  but  not  to  its  ascendancy,  in  every 
respect,  over  Cairo.  True,  when  you  behold  Damascus  from 
the  Salahiyeh,  the  last  slope  of  the  Anti-Lebanon,  it  is  the 
realization  of  all  that  you  have  dreamed  of  Oriental  splendor ; 
the  world  has  no  picture  more  dazzling.  It  is  Beanty  carried 
to  the  Sublime,  as  I  have  felt  when  overlooking  some  bound- 
£88  forest  of  palms  within  the  tropics.  From  the  hill,  whose 


DAMASCUS    FROM    THE    AXTI- LEBANOW.  121 

ridges  heave  behind  you  until  in  the  south  ,hey  rise  to  the 
gnowy  head  of  Mount  Hermon,  the  great  Syrian  plain 
stretches  away  to  the  Euphrates,  broken  at  distances  of  ten 
and  fifteen  miles,  by  two  detached  mountain  chains  In  a  ter- 
rible gorge  at  your  side,  the  river  Barrada,  tho  ancient 
Pharpar,  forces  its  way  to  the  plain,  and  its  waters,  divided 
into  twelve  different  channels,  make  all  between  you  and  those 
blue  island-hills  of  the  desert,  one  great  garden,  the  boundaries 
of  which  your  vision  can  barely  distinguish.  Its  longest 
diameter  cannot  be  less  than  twenty  miles.  You  look  down  on 
a  world  of  foliage,  and  fruit,  and  blossoms,  whose  hue,  by 
contrast  with  the  barren  mountains  and  the  yellow  rim  of  the 
desert  which  incloses  it,  seems  brighter  than  all  other  gardens 
in  the  world.  Through  its  centre,  following  the  course  of  the 
river,  lies  Damascus ;  a  line  of  white  walls,  topped  with  domes 
and  towers  and  tall  minarets,  winding  away  for  miles  through 
the  green  sea.  Nothing  less  than  a  city  of  palaces,  whose 
walls  are  marble  and  whose  doors  are  ivory  and  pearl,  could 
keep  up  the  enchantment  of  that  distant  view. 

We  rode  for  an  hour  through  the  gardens  before  entering 
the  gate.  The  fruit-trees,  of  whatever  variety — walnut,  olive, 
apricot,  or  fig — were  the  noblest  of  their  kind.  Roses  and 
pomegranates  in  bloom  starred  the  dark  foliage,  and  the 
scented  jasmine  overhung  the  walls.  But  as  we  approached 
the  city,  the  view  was  obscured  by  high  mud  walls  on  either 
side  of  the  road,  and  we  only  caught  glimpses  now  and  then 
of  the  fragrant  wilderness.  The  first  street  we  entered  was 
low  and  mean,  the  houses  of  clay.  Following  this,  we  canif 
to  an  uncovered  bazaar,  with  rude  shops  on  either  side,  pro- 
tected by  mats  stretched  in  front  and  supported  by  poles. 


122  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

Here  ail  sorts  of  common  stuffs  and  utensils  were  sold,  and 
the  street  was  filled  with  crowds  of  Fellahs  and  Desert  Araba 
Two  large  sycamores  shaded  it,  and  the  Seraglio  of  the  Pasha 
of  Damascus,  a  plain  two-story  building,  faced  the  entrance  of 
the  main  bazaar,  which  branched  off  into  the  city.  We  turned 
into  this,  and  after  passing  through  several  small  bazaars 
etocked  with  dried  fruits,  pipes  and  pipe-bowls,  groceries,  and 
all  the  primitive  wares  of  the  East,  reached  a  large  passage, 
covered  with  a  steep  wooden  roof,  and  entirely  occupied  by 
Tenders  of  silk  stuffs.  Out  of  this  we  passed  through  another, 
devoted  to  saddles  and  bridles  ;  then  another,  full  of  spices, 
and  at  last  reached  the  grand  bazaar,  where  all  the  richest 
stuffs  of  Europe  and  the  East  were  displayed  in  the  shops. 
We  rode  slowly  along  through  the  cool  twilight,  crossed  here 
and  there  by  long  pencils  of  white  light,  falling  through 
apertures  in  the  roof,  aud  illuminating  the  gay  turbans  and  silk 
caftans  of  the  lazy  merchants.  But  out  of  this  bazaar,  at 
intervals,  opeued  the  grand  gate  of  a  khau,  giving  us  a  view  of 
its  marble  court,  its  fountains,  and  the  dark  arches  of  its  store- 
rooms ;  or  the  door  of  a  mosque,  with  its  mosaic  floor  and  pil- 
lared corridor.  The  interminable  lines  of  bazaars,  with  their 
atmospheres  of  spice  and  fruit  and  fragrant  tobacco ,  the 
hushed  tread  of  the  slippered  crowds  ;  the  plash  of  falling  foun- 
tains and  the  bubbling  of  innumerable  uarghilehs  ;  the  pictur 
esque  merchants  and  their  customers,  no  longer  in  the  big 
trowsers  of  Egypt,  but  the  long  caftans  and  abas  of  Syria  j 
the  absence  of  Frank  faces  and  dresses — in  all  these  there  wa* 
the  true  spirit  of  the  Orient,  and  so  far,  we  were  charmed 
with  Damascus, 

At  the  hotel  in  the  Soog  el-Harab,  or  Frank  quarter,  thtf 


AN     ORIENTAL    HOTEL*  122 

illusion  was  not  dissipated.  It  had  once  been  the  house  of 
gome  rich  merchant.  The  court  into  which  we  were  ushered 
is  paved  with  marble,  with  a  great  stone  basin,  surrouuded  with 
vases  of  flowering  plants,  in  the  centre.  Two  large  leniou 
trees  shade  the  entrance,  and  a  vine,  climbing  to  the  top  of 
the  house,  makes  a  leafy  arbor  over  the  flat  roof.  The  walls 
of  the  house  are  painted  in  horizontal  bars  of  blue,  white, 
orange  and  white — a  gay  grotesqueness  of  style  which  does 
not  offend  the  eye  under  an  eastern  sun.  On  the  southern 
side  of  the  court  is  the  liwan,  an  arrangement  for  which  the 
houses  of  Damascus  are  noted.  It  is  a  vaulted  apartment, 
twenty  feet  high,  entirely  open  towards  the  court,  except  a  fine 
pointed  arch  at  the  top,  decorated  with  encaustic  ornaments  of 
the  most  brilliant  colors.  In  front,  a  tesselated  pavement  of 
marble  leads  to  the  doors  of  the  chambers  ou  each  side. 
Beyond  this  is  a  raised  floor  covered  with  matting,  and  along 
the  farther  end  a  divan,  whose  piled  cushions  are  the  most 
tempting  trap  ever  set  to  catch  a  lazy  man.  Although  not 
naturally  indolent,  I  find  it  impossible  to  resist  the  fascination 
of  this  lounge.  Leaning  back,  cross-legged,  against  the 
cushions,  with  the  inseparable  pipe  in  one's  hand,  the  view  of 
the  court,  the  water-basin,  the  flowers  and  lemon  trees,  the 
servants  and  dragomen  going  back  and  forth,  or  smoking  their 
narghilehs  in  the  shade — all  framed  in  the  beautiful  arched 
entrance,  is  so  perfectly  Oriental,  so  true  a  tableau  from  the 
times  of  good  old  Haroun  Al-Raschid,  that  one  is  surprised  tc 
find  how  many  hours  have  slipped  away  while  he  has  been 
rileiitly  enjoying  it. 

Opposite  the  liwan  is  a  large  room  paved  with  marble,  with 
a  handsome  fountain  in  the  centre.     It  is  the  finest  in   iht 


124  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

hotel,  and  now  occupied  by  Lord  Dalkeith  and  his  friends 
Our  own  room  is  on  the  upper  floor,  and  is  so  rich  in  decora 
tions  that  I  have  not  yet  finished  the  study  of  them.  Along 
the  side,  looking  down  on  the  court,  we  have  a  mosaic  floor  of 
ivhite,  red,  black  and  yellow  marble.  Above  this  is  raised  a 
second  floor,  carpeted  and  furnished  in  European  style.  The 
walls,  for  a  height  of  ten  feet,  are  covered  with  wooden  panel 
ling,  painted  with  arabesque  devices  in  the  gayest  colors,  and 
along  the  top  there  is  a  series  of  Arabic  inscriptions  in  gold. 
There  are  a  number  of  niches  or  open  closets  in  the  walls, 
whose  arched  tops  are  adorned  with  pendent  wooden  orna 
ments,  resembling  stalactites,  and  at  the  corners  of  the  room 
the  heavy  gilded  and  painted  cornice  drops  into  similar  gro- 
tesque incrustations.  A  space  of  bare  white  wall  intervenes 
between  this  cornice  and  the  ceiling,  which  is  formed  of  slim 
poplar  logs,  laid  side  by  side,  and  so  covered  with  paint  and 
with  scales  and  stripes  and  network  devices  in  gold  and  silver, 
that  one  would  take  them  to  be  clothed  with  the  skins  of  the 
magic  serpents  that  guard  the  Valley  of  Diamonds.  My  most 
satisfactory  remembrance  of  Damascus  will  be  this  room. 

My  walks  through  the  city  have  been  almost  wholly  confined 
to  the  bazaars,  which  are  of  immense  extent.  One  can  walk 
for  many  miles,  without  going  beyond  the  cover  of  their  peakrd 
wooden  roofs,  and  in  all  this  round  will  find  no  two  precisely 
alik*  One  is  devoted  entirely  to  soap  ;  another  to  tobacco 
through  which  you  cough  and  sneeze  your  way  to  the  bazaai 
of  spices,  and  delightedly  inhale  its  perfumed  air.  Then  ther* 
u-  the  bazaar  of  sweetmeats  ;  of  vegetables  ;  of  red  slippers  j 
of  shawls  ;  of  caftans  ;  of  bakers  and  ovens  ;  of  wooden  ware ; 
of  jewelry — a  great  store  building,  covered  with  vaulted  pas- 


BAZAARS     AND     CAF&S.  125 

sages  ;  of  Aleppo  silks  ;  of  Baghdad  carpets  ;  of  Indian  stuffs  ' 
of  coffee  ;  and  so  on,  through  a  seemingly  endless  variety.  As 
I  have  already  remarked,  along  the  line  of  the  bazaars  are 
many  khans,  the  resort  of  merchants  from  all  parts  of  Turkey 
and  Persia,  and  even  India.  They  are  large,  stately  buildings, 
and  some  of  them  have  superb  gateways  of  sculptured  marble. 
The  interior  courts  are  paved  with  stone,  with  fountains  in  the 
centre,  and  cuany  of  them  are  covered  with  domes  resting  on 
massive  pillars.  The  largest  has  a  roof  of  nine  domes,  sup- 
ported by  four  grand  pillars,  which  inclose  a  fountain.  The 
mosques,  into  which  no  Christian  is  allowed  to  enter,  are  iu 
general  inferior  to  those  of  Cairo,  but  their  outer  courts  are 
always  paved  with  marble,  adorned  with  fountains,  and  sur- 
rounded by  light  and  elegant  corridors.  The  grand  mosque  is 
an  imposing  edifice,  and  is  said  to  occupy  the  site  of  a  former 
Christian  church. 

Another  pleasant  feature  of  the  city  is  its  coffee  shops, 
which  abound  in  the  bazaars  and  on  the  outskirts  of  the  gar- 
dens, beside  the  running  streams.  Those  in  the  bazaars  are 
spacious  rooms  with  vaulted  ceilings,,  divans  running  around 
the  four  walls,  and  fountains  in  the  centre.  During  the  after- 
noon they  are  nearly  always  filled  with  Turks,  Armenians  and 
Persians,  smoking  the  uarghileh,  or  water-pipe,  which  is  the 
universal  custom  in  Damascus.  The  Persian  tobacco,  brought 
here  by  the  caravans  from  Baghdad,  is  renowned  for  this  kind 
of  smoking.  The  most  popular  coffee-shop  is  near  the  citadel, 
jn  the  banks  and  over  the  surface  of  the  Pharpar.  It  is  a 
rough  wooden  building,  with  a  roof  of  straw  mats,  but  tut 
sight  and  sound  of  the  rushing  waters;  as  they  shoot  away  with 
Arrowy  swiftness  under  your  feet,  the  shade  of  the  trees  thai 


126  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

line  the  banks,  and  the  cool  breeze  that  always  visits  tha 
Bpot,  beguile  you  into  a  second  pipe  ere  you  are  aware.  "  El 
ma,  wa  el  khodra,  wa  el  widj  el  hassan — water,  verdure  and  a 
beautiful  face,"  says  an  old  Arab  proverb,  "  are  three  things 
which  delight  the  heart,"  and  the  Syrians  avow  that  all  three 
are  to  be  found  in  Damascus.  Not  only  on  the  three  Sundays 
of  each  week,  but  every  day,  in  the  gardens  about  the  city; 
you  may  see  whole  families  (and  if  Jews  or  Christians,  many 
groups  of  families)  spending  the  day  in  the  shade,  beside  the 
beautiful  waters.  There  are  several  gardens  fitted  up  pur- 
posely for  these  pic-nics,  with  kiosks,  fountains  and  pleasant 
seats  under  the  trees.  You  bring  your  pipes,  your  provisions 
and  the  like  with  you,  but  servants  are  in  attendance  to  furnish 
fire  and  water  and  coffee,  for  which,  on  leaving,  you  give  them 
a  small  gratuity.  Of  all  the  Damascenes  I  have  yet  seen, 
there  is  not  one  but  declares  his  city  to  be  the  Garden  of  the 
World,  the  Pearl  of  the  Orient,  and  thanks  God  and  the 
Prophet  for  having  permitted  him  to  be  born  and  to  live  in  it. 
But,  except  the  bazaars,  the  khans  and  the  baths,  of  which 
there  are  several  most  luxurious  establishments,  the  city  itself 
is  neither  so  rich  nor  so  purely  Saracenic  in  its  architecture  aa 
Cairo.  The  streets  are  narrow  and  dirty,  and  the  houses, 
which  are  never  more  than  two  low  stories  in  height,  are  built 
of  sun-dried  bricks,  coated  with  plaster.  I  miss  the  solid  piles 
of  stone,  the  elegant  doorways,  and,  above  all,  the  exquisite 
hanging  balconies  of  carved  wood,  which  meet  one  in  the 
old  streets  of  Cairo.  Damascus  is  the  representative  of  all 
that  is  gay,  brilliant,  and  picturesque,  in  Oriental  life;  but  foi 
itately  magnificence,  Cairo,  and,  1  suspect,  Baghdad,  is  iti 
superior 


PALACES     OF     THE    JEWS.  121 

We  visited  the  other  day  the  houses  of  somo  of  the  richest 
Jews  and  Christians.  Old  Abou-Ibrahim,  the  Jewish  servant 
of  the  hotel,  accompanied  and  introduced  us.  It  is  customary 
for  travellers  to  make  these  visits,  and  the  families,  far  from 
being  annoyed,  are  flattered  by  it.  The  exteriors  of  the 
houses  are  mean  ;  but  after  threading  a  narrow  passage,  we 
emerged  into  a  court,  rivalling  in  profusion  of  ornament  and 
rich  contrast  of  colors  one's  early  idea  of  the  Palace  of  Alad- 
din. The  floors  and  fountains  are  all  of  marble  mosaic  ;  the 
arches  of  the  liwan  glitter  with  gold,  and  the  walls  bewilder 
the  eye  with  the  intricacy  of  their  adornments.  In  the  first 
house,  we  were  received  by  the  family  in  a  room  of  precious 
marbles,  with  niches  in  the  walls,  resembling  grottoes  of  silver 
stalactites.  The  cushions  of  the  divan  were  of  the  richest  silk, 
and  a  chandelier  of  Bohemian  crystal  hung  from  the  ceiling. 
Silver  narghik-hs  were  brought  to  us,  and  coffee  was  served  in 
heavy  silver  zerfs.  The  lady  of  the  house  was  a  rather  corpu- 
lent lady  of  about  thirtj  five,  and  wore  a  semi-European  robe 
of  embroidered  silk  and  lace,  with  full  trowsers  gathered  at 
the  ankles,  and  yellow  slippers.  Her  black  hair  was  braided, 
and  fastened  at  the  end  with  golden  ornaments,  and  the  light 
scarf  twisted  around  her  head  blazed  with  diamonds.  The  lida 
of  her  large  eyes  were  stained  with  kohl,  and  her  eyebrows 
were  plucked  out  and  shaved  away  so  as  to  leave  only  a  thin, 
arched  line,  as  if  drawn  with  a  pencil,  above  each  eye  Her 
daughter,  a  girl  of  fifteen,  who  bore  the  genuine  Hebrew  name 
of  Rachel,  had  even  bigger  and  blacker  eyes  than  her  mother  ; 
but  her  forehead  was  low,  her  mouth  large,  and  the  expression 
of  her  face  exceedingly  stupid  The  father  of  the  family  was  a 
middle-aged  man,  with  a  well-bred  air,  and  talked  with  si? 


128  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

Oriental  politeness  which  was  very  refreshing.  An  Engliek 
lady,  who  was  of  our  party,  said  to  him,  through  me,  that  ii 
she  possessed  such  a  house  she  should  be  willing  to  remak 
in  Damascus.  "Why  does  she  leave,  then  ?"  he  immediately 
answered :  "  this  is  her  house,  and  everything  that  is  in 
it."  Speaking  of  visiting  Jerusalem,  he  asked  me  whether  it 
was  not  a  more  beautiful  city  than  Damascus.  "  It  is  not 
more  beautiful,"  I  said,  "  but  it  is  more  holy,"  an  expression 
which  the  whole  company  received  with  great  satisfaction. 

The  second  house  we  visited  was  even  larger  and  richer  than 
the  first,  but  had  an  air  of  neglect  and  decay.  The  slabs  of 
rich  marble  were  loose  and  broken,  about  the  edges  of  the 
fountains  ;  the  rich  painting  of  the  wood-work  was  beginning 
to  fade  ;  and  the  balustrades  leading  to  the  upper  chambers 
were  broken  off  in  places.  We  were  ushered  into  a  room,  the 
walls  and  ceilings  of  which  were  composed  entirely  of  gilded 
arabesque  frame-work,  set  with  small  mirrors.  When  new,  it 
most  have  had  a  gorgeous  effect ;  bat  the  gold  is  now  tar 
nished,  and  the  glasses  dim.  The  mistress  of  the  house  was 
seated  011  the  cushions,  dividing  her  time  between  her  pipe  and 
her  needle-work.  She  merely  made  a  slight  inclination  of  her 
heat!  as  we  entered,  and  went  on  with  her  occupation.  Pre- 
sently her  two  daughters  and  an  Abyssinian  slave  appeared, 
and  took  their  places  on  the  cushions  at  her  feet,  the  whob 
forming  a  charming  group,  which  I  regretted  some  of  my 
artist  friends  at  home  could  not  see.  The  mistress  was  so 
exceedingly  dignified,  that  she  bestowed  but  few  words  on  us. 
She  seemed  to  resent  our  admiration  of  tho  slave,  who  was  f 
mest  graceful  creature  ;  yet  her  jealousy,  it  afterwards  appear- 
ed, had  reference  to  her  own  husband,  for  we  had  scarcely  left 


A     CHRISTIAN     OEXTLKMAN.  Ii9 

when  a  servant  followed  to  inform  the  English  lady  that  if  sh« 
was  willing  to  bny  the  Abyssinian,  the  mistress  would  sell  hei 
at  once  for  two  thousand  piastres. 

The  last  visit  we  paid  was  to  the  dwelling  of  a  Marouite, 
the  richest  Christian  in  Damascus.  The  house  resembled 
those  we  had  already  seen,  except  that,  having  been  recenth 
built,  it  was  in  better  condition,  and  exhibited  better  taste 
in  the  ornaments.  No  one  but  the  lady  was  allowed  to  enter 
the  female  apartments,  the  rest  of  us  being  entertained  by  the 
proprietor,  a  man  of  fifty,  and  without  exception  the  hand- 
somest and  most  dignified  person  of  that  age  I  have  ever  seen. 
He  was  a  king  without  a  throne,  and  fascinated  me  completely 
by  the  noble  elegance  of  his  manner.  In  any  country  but  the 
Orient,  I  should  have  pronounced  him  incapable  of  an  unwor- 
thy thought :  here,  he  may  be  exactly  the  reverse. 

Although  Damascus  is  considered  the  oldest  city  in  the 
world,  the  date  of  its  foundation  going  beyond  tradition,  there 
are  very  few  relics  of  antiquity  in  or  near  it.  In  the  bazaar 
are  three  large  pillars,  supporting  half  the  pediment,  which  are 
said  to  have  belonged  to  the  Christian  Church  of  St.  John, 
but,  if  so,  that  church  must  have  been  originally  a  Roman 
temple.  Part  of  the  Roman  walls  and  one  of  the  city  gates 
remain;  and  we  saw  the  spot  where,  according  to  tradition, 
Saul  was  let  down  from  the  wall  in  a  basket.  There  are  twc 
localities  pointed  out  as  the  scene  of  his  conversion,  which, 
from  his  own  account,  occurred  near  the  city.  I  visited  a 
subterranean  chapel  claimed  by  the  Latin  monks  to  be  the 
cellar  of  the  house  of  Ananias,  in  which  the  Apostle  was 
concealed.  The  cellar  is,  undoubtedly,  of  great  antiquity;  but 
oa  the  whole  quarter  was  for  many  centuries  inhabited  wholly 

6* 


130  THE     LANDS     OK    THE     SARACKN'. 

by  Turks,  it  would  be  curious  to  know  how  the  monks  ascet 
tained  which  was  the  house  of  Auaiiias.  As  for  the  "  streei 
called  Straight,"  it  would  be  difficult  at  present  to  find  any  in 
Damascus  corresponding  to  that  epithet. 

The  famous  Damascus  blades,  so  renowned  iu  the  time 
Df  the  Crusaders,  are  made  here  no  longer.  The  art  has  been 
last  for  three  or  four  centuries.  Yet  genuine  old  swords,  of 
the  true  steel,  are  occasionally  to  be  found.  They  are  readily 
distinguished  from  modern  imitations  by  their  clear  and  silvery 
ring  when  struck,  and  by  the  finely  watered  appearance  of  the 
blade,  produced  by  its  having  been  first  made  of  woven  wire 
and  then  worked  over  and  over  again  until  it  attained  the 
requisite  temper.  A  droll  Turk,  who  is  the  shekh  ed-deilal,  or 
Chief  of  the  Auctioneers,  and  is  nicknamed  Abou-Anteeka  (the 
Father  of  the  Antiques,),  has  a  large  collection  of  sabres,  dag- 
gers, pieces  of  mail,  shields,  pipes,  rings,  seals,  and  other  ancient 
articles.  He  demands  enormous  prices,  but  generally  takes 
about  one-third  of  what  he  first  asks.  I  have  spent  several 
hours  in  his  curiosity  shop,  bargaining  for  turquoise  rings,  car- 
buncles, Persian  amulets,  and  Circassian  daggers.  While 
looking  over  some  old  swords  the  other  day,  I  noticed  one  of 
exquisite  temper,  but  with  a  shorter  blade  than  usual.  The 
point  had  apparently  been  snapped  off  in  fight,  but  owing  to 
the  excellence  of  the  sword,  or  the  owner's  affection  for  it,  the 
steel  had  been  carefully  shaped  into  a  new  point.  Abou- 
Anteeka  asked  five  hundred  piastres,  and  I,  who  had  taken  a 
particular  fancy  to  possess  it,  offered  him  two  hundred  in  ac 
indifferent  way,  and  then  laid  it  aside  to  examine  othet 
articles.  After  his  refusal  to  accept  my  offer,  I  said  nothing 
more,  and  was  leaving  the  shop,  when  the  old  fellow  called  nw 


THE    SWORD    OF    HABOUK.  181 

back,  saying  :  "  You  have  forgotten  your  sword, " — which 
I  thereupon  took  at  my  own  price.  I  have  shown  it  to  Mr 
Wood,  the  British  Consul,  who  pronounced  it  an  extremely 
fine  specimen  of  Damascus  steel  ;  and,  on  reading  the  inscrip- 
tion enamelled  upon  the  blade,  ascertains  that  it  was  made  in 
the  year  of  the  Hegira,  181,  which  corresponds  to  A.D.  798 
This  was  during  the  Caliphate  of  Haroun  Al-Raschid,  and 
who  knows  but  the  sword  may  have  once  flashed  in  the 
presence  of  that  great  and  glorious  sovereign — nay,  been 
drawn  by  his  own  hand  !  Who  knows  but  that  the  Milan 
armor  of  the  Crusaders  may  have  shivered  its  point,  on 
the  field  of  Askalou  1  I  kiss  the  veined  azure  of  thy  blade, 
0  Sword  of  Haroun  !  I  hang  the  crimson  cords  of  thy  scab- 
bard upon  my  shoulder,  and  thou  shalt  henceforth  clank  in  sil- 
ver music  at  my  side,  singing  to  my  ear,  and  mine  alone,  thy 
chants  of  battle,  thy  rejoicing  songs  of  slaughter  ! 

Yesterday  evening,  three  gentlemen  of  Lord  Dalkeith's 
party  arrived  from  a  trip  to  Palmyra.  The  road  thither  lies 
through  a  part  of  the  Syrian  Desert  belonging  to  the  Aneyzeh 
tribe,  who  are  now  supposed  to  be  in  league  with  the  Druses, 
against  the  Government.  Including  this  party,  only  six  per- 
BOUS  have  succeeded  in  reaching  Palmyra  within  a  year,  and 
two  of  them,  Messrs.  Noel  and  Cathcart,  were  imprisoned  four 
days  by  the  Arabs,  and  only  escaped  by  the  accidental  depar 
ture  of  a  caravan  for  Damascus.  The  present  party  w>s 
obliged  to  travel  almost  wholly  by  night,  running  the  gauntlet 
of  a  dozen  Arab  encampments,  and  was  only  allowed  a  day's 
Stay  at  Palmyra.  They  were  all  disguised  as  Bedouins, 
and  took  nothing  with  them  but  the  necessary  provisions. 
They  made  their  appearance  here  last  evening,  in  long,  whit« 


132  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  8ARACKN. 

abas,  with  the  Bedouin  keffie  bound  over  their  hea^s,  theii 
faces  burnt,  their  eyes  inflamed,  and  their  frames  feverish  with 
seven  days  and  nights  of  travel.  The  shekh  who  conducted 
them  was  not  an  Aneyzeh,  and  would  have  lost  his  life  had 
they  fallen  in  with  any  of  that  tribe 


THE    VISIONS    OF    HASHEESH.  133 


CHAPTER  X 

THE     VISIONS     OF     HASHEESH. 

"Exalting,  trembling,  raging,  fainting, 
Possessed  beyond  the  Muse's  painting." 

ComM. 

DURING  my  stay  in  Damascus,  that  insatiaWe  curiosity  which 
leads  me  to  prefer  the  acquisition  of  all  lawful  knowledge 
through  the  channels  of  my  own  personal  experience,  rather 
than  in  less  satisfactory  and  less  laborious  ways,  induced  me  to 
make  a  trial  of  the  celebrated  Hasheesh — that  remarkable  drug 
which  supplies  the  luxurious  Syrian  with  dreams  more  alluring 
and  more  gorgeous  than  the  Chinese  extracts  from  his  darling 
opium  pipe.  The  use  of  Hasheesh — which  is  a  preparation  of 
the  dried  leaves  of  the  cannabis  indica — has  been  familiar  to 
the  East  for  many  centuries.  During  the  Crusades,  it  was 
frequently  used  by  the  Saracen  warriors  to  stimulate  them  to 
the  work  of  slaughter,  and  from  the  Arabic  term  of  "  Hashas 
theen,"  or  Eaters  of  Hasheesh,  as  applied  to  them,  the  word 
"assassin"  has  been  naturally  derived.  An  infusion  of  the 
same  plant  gives  to  the  drink  called  "  bhang,"  which  is  in  com- 
mon use  throughout  India  and  Malaysia,  its  peculiar  properties. 
Thus  prepared,  it  is  a  more  fierce  aud  fatal  stimulant  thau  the 
paste  of  sugar  and  spices  to  \\aich  the  Turk  resorts,  as  the 
food  of  his  voluptuous  evening  reveries.  While  its  immediate 
jffects  seem  to  be  more  potent  thau  those  of  opium,  its 


134  THE     LANPS     OF     THE     SARACEN. 

habitual  use,  though  attended  with  ultimate  and  permanent 
injury  to  the  system,  rarely  results  in  such  utter  wreck  ot 
mind  and  body  as  that  to  which  the  votaries  of  the  latter  drug 
inevitably  condemn  themselves. 

A  previous  experience  of  the  effects  of  hasheesh — which  1 
took  once,  and  in  a  very  mild  form,  while  in  Egypt — was  so 
peculiar  in  its  character,  that  my  curiosity,  instead  of  being 
satisfied,  only  prompted  me  the  more  to  throw  myself,  for  once, 
wholly  under  its  influence.  The  sensations  it  then  produced 
were  those,  physically,  of  exquisite  lightness  and  airiness — 
mentally,  of  a  wonderfully  keen  perception  of  the  ludicrous,  in 
the  most  simple  and  familiar  objects.  During  the  half  hour  in 
which  it  lasted,  I  was  at  no  time  so  far  under  its  control,  that 
I  could  not,  with  the  clearest  perception,  study  the  changes 
through  which  I  passed.  I  noted,  with  careful  attention,  the 
fine  sensations  which  spread  throughout  the  whole  tissue  of  my 
nervous  fibre,  each  thrill  helping  to  divest  my  frame  of  its 
earthy  and  material  nature,  until  my  substance  appeared  to 
me  no  grosser  than  the  vapors  of  the  atmosphere,  and  while 
sitting  in  the  calm  of  the  Egyptian  twilight,  1  expected  to  be 
lifted  up  and  carried  away  by  the  first  breeze  that  should  ruffle 
the  Nile.  While  this  process  was  going  on,  the  objects  by 
which  I  was  surrounded  assumed  a  strange  and  whimsical 
expression.  My  pipe,  the  oars  which  my  boatmen  plied,  the 
turban  worn  by  the  captain,  the  water-jars  and  culinary  imple- 
ments, became  in  themselves  so  inexpressibly  absurd  and  com- 
ical, that  I  was  provoked  into  a  long  fit  of  laughter.  The 
hallucination  died  away  as  gradually  as  it  came,  leaving  me 
overcome  with  a  soft  and  pleasant  drowsiness  from  which  I 
sank  into  a  deep,  refreshing  sleep. 


fHE     VISION'S     OF     HA3HE.E3H  185 

My  companion  and  an  English  gentleman,  who,  with  his 
vrife,  was  also  residing  in  Antonio's  pleasant  caravanserai — 
agreed  to  join  me  in  the  experiment.  The  dragoman  of  the 
latter  was  deputed  to  procure  a  sufficient  quantity  of  the  drug 
He  was  a  dark  Egyptian,  speaking  only  the  lingua  franca  of 
the  East,  and  asked  me,  as  he  took  the  money  and  departed 
on  his  mission,  whether  he  should  get  hasheesh  "per  ridert,  c 
per  dormirel"  "  Oh,  per  riderc,  of  course,"  I  answered  ;  "and 
gee  that  it  be  strong  and  fresh."  It  is  customary  with  the 
Syrians  to  take  a  small  portion  immediately  before  the  evening 
meal,  as  it  is  thus  diffused  through  the  stomach  and  acts  more 
gradually,  as  well  as  more  gently,  upon  the  system.  As  our 
dinner-hour  was  at  sunset,  I  proposed  taking  hasheesh  at  that 
time,  but  my  friends,  fearing  that  its  operation  might  be  more 
speedy  upon  fresh  subjects,  and  thus  betray  them  into  some 
absurdity  in  the  presence  of  the  other  travellers,  preferred 
waiting:  until  after  the  meal.  It  was  then  agreed  that  wo 
should  retire  to  our  room,  which,  as  it  rose  like  a  tower  one 
story  higher  than  the  rest  of  the  building,  was  in  a  manner 
isolated,  and  would  screen  us  from  observation. 

We  commenced  by  taking  a  tea-spoonful  each  of  the  mixture 
which  Abdallah  had  procured.  This  was  about  the  quantity  1 
bad  taken  in  Egypt,  and  as  the  effect  then  had  been  so  slight, 
I  judged  that  we  ran  no  risk  of  taking  an  over-dose.  The 
strength  of  the  drug,  however,  must  have  been  far  greater  iu 
this  instance,  for  whereas  I  could  in  the  former  case  distinguish 
no  flavor  but  that  of  sugar  and  rose  leaves,  I  now  found  th< 
taste  intensely  bi'  ter  and  repulsive  to  the  palate.  We  allowed 
the  paste  to  dissolve  .slowly  on  our  tongues,  and  sat  some  time, 
quietly  waiting  the  re<  lit.  But,  hiiving  beeu  taken  upon  » 


f36  THE     l.ANi»S     OF     THE     SARACEN. 

full  stomach,  its  operation  was  hindered,  and  after  the  laps* 
of- nearly  an  hour,  we  could  not  detect  the  least  change  In  om 
feelings.  My  friends  loudly  expressed  their  conviction  of  the 
humbug  of  hasheesh,  but  I,  unwilling  to  give  up  the  experi 
ment  at  this  point,  proposed  that  we  should  take  an  additional 
half  spoonful,  and  follow  it  with  a  cup  of  hot  tea,  which,  if 
there  were  really  any  virtue  in  the  preparation,  could  not  fail 
to  call  it  into  action.  This  was  done,  though  not  without 
some  misgivings,  as  we  were  all  ignorant  of  the  precise  quan- 
tity which  constituted  a  dose,  and  the  limits  within  which  the 
drug  could  be  taken  with  safety.  It  was  now  ten  o'clock  ;  the 
streets  of  Damascus  were  gradually  becoming  silent,  and  the 
fair  city  was  bathed  in  the  yellow  lustre  of  the  Syrian  moon. 
Only  in  the  marble  court-yard  below  us,  a  few  dragomen  and 
mukkairee  lingered  under  the  lemon-trees,  and  beside  the  foun- 
tain in  the  centre. 

I  was  seated  alone,  nearly  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  talking 
with  my  friends,  who  were  lounging  upon  a  sofa  placed  in  a 
sort  of  alcove,  at  the  farther  end,  when  the  same  fine  nervous 
thrill,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  suddenly  shot  through  me. 
But  this  time  it  was  accompanied  with  a  burning  sensation  at 
the  pit  of  the  stomach ;  and,  instead  of  growing  upon  me  with 
the  gradual  pace  of  healthy  slumber,  and  resolving  me,  aa 
before,  into  air,  it  came  with  the  intensity  of  a  pang,  and  shot 
throbbing  along  the  nerves  to  the  extremities  of  my  body.  The 
sense  of  limitation — of  the  confinement  of  our  senses  within 
the  bounds  of  our  own  flesh  and  blood — instantly  fell  away. 
The  walls  of  my  frame  were  burst  outward  and  tumbled  into 
ruin ;  and,  without  thinking-  what  form  I  wore-  losing  sight 
even  of  all  idea  of  form — I  felt  that  I  existed  tl-j-oughout  • 


THE    VISIONS    OF    HASHEESH  187 

vast  extent  of  space.  The  blood,  pulsed  from  my  heart,  sped 
through  uncounted  leagues  before  it  reached  my  extremities  ( 
tne  air  drawn  into  my  lungs  expanded  into  seas  of  limpid 
ether,  and  the  arch  of  my  skull  was  broader  than  the  vault  of 
heaven.  Within  the  concave  that  held  my  brain,  were  the 
fathomless  deeps  of  blue  ;  clouds  floated  there,  and  the  winds 
of  heaven  rolled  them  together,  and  there  shone  the  orb  of  the 
sun  It  was — though  I  thought  not  of  that  at  the  time — like 
a  revelation  of  the  mystery  of  omnipresence.  It  is  difficult  to 
describe  this  sensation,  or  the  rapidity  with  which  it  mastered 
me.  In  the  state  of  mental  exaltation  in  which  I  was  then 
plunged,  all  sensations,  as  they  rose,  suggested  more  or  less 
coherent  images.  They  presented  themselves  to  me  in  a  double 
form  :  one  physical,  and  therefore  to  a  certain  extent  tangible ; 
the  other  spiritual,  and  revealing  itself  in  a  succession  of  splen- 
did metaphors.  The  physical  feeling  of  extended  being  was 
accompanied  by  the  image  of  an  exploding  meteor,  not  sub- 
siding into  darkness,  but  continuing  to  shoot  from  its  centre  or 
nucleus — which  corresponded  to  the  burning  spot  at  the  pit  of 
my  stomach — incessant  adumbrations  of  light  that  finally  lost 
themselves  in  the  infinity  of  space.  To  my  mind,  even  now, 
this  image  is  still  the  best  illustration  of  my  sensations,  as  I 
recall  them  ;  but  I  greatly  doubt  whether  the  reader  will  find 
it  equally  clear. 

My  curiosity  was  now  in  a  way  of  being  satisfied  ;  the 
Spirit  (demon,  shall  I  not  rather  say?)  of  Hasheesh  had  entire 
possession  of  me.  I  was  cast  upon  the  flood  of  his  illusions,  and 
drifted  helplessly  whithersoever  they  might  choose  to  bear  me 
The  thrills  which  ran  through  my  nervous  system  became  more 
rapid  and  fierce,  accompanied  with  sensations  tha£  «teeped  EBJ 


1 38  THE    1AXDS     OF    THE     SARACEN. 

whole  being  in  unutterable  rapture.  I  was  encompassed  by  6 
Bea  of  light,  through  which  played  the  pure,  harmonious  colon 
that  are  born  of  light.  While  endeavoring,  in  broken  expres 
sions,  to  describe  my  feelings  to  my  friends,  who  sat  looking 
upon  me  incredulously — not  yet  having  been  affected  by  the 
drug — I  suddenly  found  myself  at  the  foot  of  the  great  Pyra- 
mid of  Cheops.  The  tapering  courses  of  yellow  limestone 
gleamed  like  gold  in  the  sun,  and  the  pile  rose  so  high  that  it 
seemed  to  lean  for  support  upon  the  blue  arch  of  the  sky.  I 
wished  to  ascend  it,  and  the  wish  alone  placed  me  immediately 
upon  its  apex,  lifted  thousands  of  feet  above  the  wheat-fields 
and  palm- groves  of  Egypt.  I  cast  my  eyes  downward,  and, 
to  my  astonishment,  saw  that  it  was  built,  not  of  limestone, 
but  of  huge  square  plugs  of  Cavendish  tobacco  !  Words  can- 
not paint  the  overwhelming  sense  of  the  ludicrous  which  I 
then  experienced.  I  writhed  on  my  chair  in  an  agony  of 
laughter,  which  was  only  relieved  by  the  vision  melting  away 
like  a  dissolving  view  ;  till,  out  of  my  confusion  of  indistinct 
images  and  fragments  of  images,  another  and  more  wonderful 
vision  arose. 

The  more  vividly  I  recall  the  scene  which  followed,  the  more 
carefully  I  restore  its  different  features,  and  separate  the  many 
threads  of  sensation  which  it  wove  into  one  gorgeous  web,  the 
oiore  I  despair  of  representing  its  exceeding  glory.  I  waa 
moving  over  the  Desert,  not  upon  the  rocking- dromedary,  but 
seated  in  a  barque  made  of  mother-of-pearl,  and  studded  with 
jewels  of  surpassing  lustre.  The  sand  was  of  grains  of  gold, 
and  my  keel  slid  through  them  without  jar  or  sound.  The  air 
was  radiant  with  excess  of  light,  though  no  sun  was  to  be  seen 
I  inhaled  the  most  delicious  perf'imes  ;  and  harmonies,  such  at 


THE     VISIONS    OF     HASHEESH  13S 

Beethoven  may  have  hi;ard  in  dreams,  but  never  wrote,  floated 
around  me.  The  atmosphere  itself  was  light,  odor,  music  ; 
and  each  and  all  sublimated  beyond  anything  the  sober^seuses 
are  capable  of  receiving.  Before  me — for  a  thousand  leagues, 
ss  it  seemed — stretched  a  vista  of  rainbows,  whose  colors 
gleamed  with  the  splendor  of  gems — arches  of  living  amethyst, 
sapphire,  emerald,  topaz,  and  ruby.  By  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands,  they  flew  past  me,  as  my  dazzling  barge  sped 
down  the  magnificent  arcade  ;  yet  the  vista  still  stretched  as 
far  as  ever  before  me.  •*  I  revelled  in  a  sensuous  elysium,  which 
was  perfect,  because  no  sense  was  left  ungratified.  But  beyond 
all,  my  mind  was  filled  with  a  boundless  feeling  of  triumph. 
My  journey  was  that  of  a  conqueror — not  of  a  conqueror  who 
subdues  his  race,  either  by  Love  or  by  Will,  for  I  forgot  that 
Man  existed — but  one  victorious  over  the  grandest  as  well  aa 
the  subtlest  forces  of  Nature.  The  spirits  of  Light,  Color, 
Odor,  Sound,  and  Motion  were  my  slaves  ;  and,  having  these, 
I  was  master  of  the  universe. 

Those  who  are  endowed  to  any  extent  with  the  imaginative 
faculty,  must  have  at  least  once  in  their  lives  experienced  feel- 
ings which  may  give  them  a  clue  to  the  exalted  sensuous 
raptures  of  my  triumphal  march.  The  view  of  a  sublime 
mountain  landscape,  the  hearing  of  a  grand  orchestral  sym- 
phony, or  of  a  choral  upborne  by  the  "  full-voiced  organ,"  or 
even  the  beauty  and  luxury  of  a  cloudless  summer  day,  sug- 
gests emotions  similar  in  kind,  if  less  intense.  They  took  a 
warmth  and  glow  from  that  pure  animal  joy  which  degrade: 
not,  but  spiritualizes  and  ennobles  our  material  part,  and 
which  differs  from  cold,  abstract,  intellectual  enjoyment,  as  the 
flaming  diamond  of  the  Orient  differs  from  the  icide  of  the 


THE    LAN13     OF    THE     S1BACEN. 

North.  Those  finer  senses,  which  occupy  a  middle  ground 
between  our  animal  and  intellectual  appetites,  were  suddenly 
developed  to  a  pitch  beyond  what  I  had  ever  dreamed,  and 
being  thus  at  one  and  the  same  time  gratified  to  the  ft  Host 
extent  of  their  preternatural  capacity,  the  result  was  a  -ingle 
harmonious  sensation,  to  describe  which  human  language  hag 
rio  epithet.  Mahomet's  Paradise,  with  its  palaces  of  ruby  and 
emerald,  its  airs  of  musk  aud  cassia,  and  its  rivers  colder  than 
snow  and  sweeter  than  honey,  would  have  been  a  poor  and 
mean  terminus  for  my  arcade  of  rainbows.  Yet  iu  the  charac- 
ter of  this  paradise,  in  the  gorgeous  fancies  of  the  Arabian 
Nights,  in  the  glow  aud  luxury  of  all  Oriental  poetry,  I  now 
recognize  more  or  less  of  the  agency  of  hasheesh. 

The  fulness  of  my  rapture  expanded  the  sense  of  time  ;  and 
though  the  whole  vision  was  probably  not  more  than  live 
minutes  hi  passing  through  my  mind,  years  seemed  to  have 
elapsed  while  I  shot  under  the  dazzling  myriads  of  rainbow 
arches.  By  and  by,  the  rainbows,  the  barque  of  pearl  and 
jewels,  and  the  desert  of  golden  sand,  vanished  ;  and,  still 
bathed  in  light  and  perfume,  I  found  myself  iu  a  laud  of  green 
and  flowery  lawns,  divided  by  hills  of  gently  undulating  out- 
line. But,  although  the  vegetation  was  the  richest  of  earth, 
there  were  neither  sv-eams  nor  fountains  to  be  seen  ;  and  the 
people  who  came  from  the  hills,  with  brilliant  garments  that 
shone  in  the  sun,  besought  me  to  give  them  the  blessing  of 
water.  Their  hands  were  full  of  branches  of  the  corai  honey- 
suckle, in  bloom.  These  I  took  ;  and,  breaking  off  the  flowers 
one  by  one,  set  them  hi  the  earth.  The  slender,  trumpet-like 
babes  immediately  became  shafts  of  masonry,  and  sank  deep 
into  the  earth  ;  the  lip  of  the  flower  changed  into  a  circular 


THE    VISIONS     OF     HASHKK3H.  141 

mouth  of  rose-colored  marble,  and  the  people,  leaning  over  its 
brink,  lowered  their  pitchers  to  the  bottom  with  cords,  and 
drew  them  up  again,  filled  to  the  brim,  and  dripping  witft 
honey. 

The  most  remarkable  feature  of  these  illusions  was,  that  at 
the  time  when  I  was  most  completely  under  their  influence,  I 
knew  myself  to  be  seated  in  the  tower  of  Antonio's  hotel  in 
Damascus,  knew  that  I  had  taken  hasheesh,  and  that  the 
strange,  gorgeeus  and  ludicrous  fancies  which  possessed  me, 
were  the  effect  of  it.  At  the  very  same  instant  that  I  looked 
upon  the  Valley  of  the  Nile  from  the  pyramid,  slid  over  the 
Desert,  or  created  my  marvellous  wells  in  that  beautiful  pasto- 
ral country,  I  saw  the  furniture  of  my  room,  its  mosaic  pave- 
ment, the  quaint  Saracenic  niches  in  the  walls,  the  painted  and 
gilded  beams  of  the  ceiling,  and  the  couch  in  the  recess  before 
me,  with  my  two  companions  watching  me.  Both  sensations 
were  simultaneous,  and  equally  palpable.  While  I  was  most 
given  up  to  the  magnificent  delusion,  I  saw  its  cause  and  felt 
its  absurdity  most  clearly.  Metaphysicians  say  that  the  mind 
is  incapable  of  performing  two  operations  at  the  same  time, 
and  may  attempt  to  explain  this  phenomenon  by  supposing  a 
rapid  and  incessant  vibration  of  the  perceptions  between  the 
two  states.  This  explanation,  however,  is  not  satisfactory  to 
me  ;  for  not  more  clearly  does  a  skilful  musician  with  the 
samo  breath  blow  two  distinct  musical  notes  from  a  bugle,  than 
I  was  conscious  of  two  distinct  conditions  of  being  in  the  samt 
moment.  Yet,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  neither  conflicted  witl 
the  other.  My  enjoyment  of  the  visions  was  complete  and 
absolute,  undisturbed  by  the  faintest  doubt  of  their  reality  ; 
while,  in  some  other  chamber  of  my  brain,  Reason  sat  coolly 


143  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

watching  them,  and  heaping  the  liveliest  ridicule  on  their  fan 
tastic  features.  One  set  of  nerves  was  thrilled  with  the  bliss 
of  the  gods,  while  another  was  convulsed  with  unquenchable 
laughter  at  that  very  bliss.  My  highest  ecstacips  could  nci 
bear  down  and  silence  the  weight  of  my  ridicule,  which,  in  iii 
turn,  was  powerless  to  prevent  me  from  running  into  other  and 
more  gorgeous  absurdities.  I  was  double,  not  "swan  and 
shadow,"  but  rather,  Sphinx-like,  human  and  beast.  A  true 
Sphinx,  I  was  a  riddle  and  a  mystery  to  myself. 

The  drug,  which  had  been  retarded  in  its  operation  on 
account  of  having  been  taken  after  a  meal,  now  began  tc 
make  itself  more  powerfully  felt.  The  visions  were  more  gro 
tesque  than  ever,  but  less  agreeable  ;  and  there  was  a  painful 
tension  throughout  my  nervous  system — the  effect  of  over-sti- 
mulus. I  was  a  mass  of  transparent  jelly,  and  a  confectioner 
poured  me  into  a  twisted  mould.  I  threw  my  chair  aside,  and 
writhed  and  tortured  myself  for  some  time  to  force  my  loose 
substance  into  the  mould.  At  last,  when  I  had  so  far  suc- 
ceeded that  only  one  foot  remained  outside,  it  was  lifted 
off,  and  another  mould,  of  still  more  crooked  and  intricate 
shape,  substituted.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  contortions  through 
which  I  went,  to  accomplish  the  end  of  my  gelatinous  destiny, 
would  have  been  extremely  ludicrous  to  a  spectator,  but  to  me 
they  were  painful  and  disagreeable.  The  sober  half  of  me 
went  into  tits  of  laughter  over  them,  and  through  that  laugh- 
ter, my  vision  shifted  into  another  scene.  I  had  laughed  until 
my  eyefc  overflowed  profusely.  Every  drop  that  fell,  immedi- 
ately became  a  large  loaf  of  bread,  and  tumbled  upon  the 
shop-board  of  a  baker  in  the  bazaar  at  Damascus.  The  more 
I  laughed,  the  faster  the  loaves  fell,  until  sucb  a  pile  W«K 


THE    VISIONS    OF 

raised  about  the  baker,  that  I  could  hardly  see  the  top  of 
his  head.  "  The  mail  will  be.  suffocated,"  I  cried,  "  but  if  he 
were  to  die,  I  cannot  stop  1" 

My  perceptions  now  became  more  dim  and  confused.  I  felt 
that  I  was  in  the  grasp  of  some  giant  force  ;  and,  in  the  glim- 
mering of  my  fading  reason,  grew  earnestly  alarmed,  for  iht 
terrible  stress  under  which  my  frame  labored  increased  every 
moment.  A  fierce  and  furious  heat  radiated  from  my  stomach 
throughout  my  system  ;  my  mouth  and  throat  were  as  dry  and 
hard  as  if  made  of  brass,  and  my  tongue,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  a 
bar  of  rusty  iron.  I  seized  a  pitcher  of  water,  and  drank  long 
and  deeply  ;  but  I  might  as  well  have  drunk  so  much  air,  for  not 
only  did  it  impart  no  moisture,  but  my  palate  and  throat  gave  me 
no  intelligence  of  having  drunk  at  all.  I  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  brandishing  my  arms  convulsively,  and  heaving 
sighs  that  seemed  to  shatter  my  whole  being.  "  Will  no 
one,"  I  cried  in  distress,  "  cast  out  this  devil  that  has  posses- 
sion of  me  ?"  I  no  longer  saw  the  room  nor  my  friends,  but  1 
heard  one  of  them  saying,  "  It  must  be  real  ;  he  could  not 
counterfeit  such  an  expression  as  that.  But  it  don't  look 
much  like  pleasure."  Immediately  afterwards  there  was  a 
scream  of  the  wildest  laughter,  and  my  countryman  sprang 
upon  the  floor,  exclaiming,  "  0,  ye  gods  1  I  am  a  locomotive  l'; 
This  was  his  ruling  hallucination  ;  and,  for  the  space  of  two  01 
three  hours,  he  continued  to  pace  to  and  fro  with  a  measured 
stride,  exhaling  his  breath  in  violent  jets,  and  when  he  spoke, 
dividing  his  wcrds  into  syllables,  each  of  which  he  brought  out 
with  a  jerk,  at  the  same  time  turning  his  hands  at  his  sides,  as 
if  they  were  the  cranks  of  imaginary  wheels,  The  English- 
man, as  soon  as  he  felt  the  dose  beginning  to  take  effect,  pru 


144  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  3ARACEK. 

dently  retreated  to  his  own  room,  and  what  the  nature  cf  lila 
visions  was,  we  never  learned,  for  he  refused  to  tell,  and, 
moreover,  enjoined  the  strictest  silence  on  his  wife. 

By  this  time  it  was  nearly  midnight.  I  had  passed  through 
the  Paradise  of  Hasheesh,  and  was  plunged  at  once  into  its 
fiercest  Hell.  In  my  ignorance  I  had  taken  what,  I  have 
since  learned,  would  have  been  a  sufficient  portion  for  six  men, 
and  was  now  paying  a  frightful  penalty  for  my  curiosity.  The 
excited  blood  rushed  through  my  frame  with  a  sound  like  the 
roaring  of  mighty  waters.  It  was  projected  into  my  eyes  until 
I  could  no  longer  see  ;  it  beat  thickly  in  my  ears,  and  so 
throbbed  in  my  heart,  that  I  feared  the  ribs  would  give  way 
under  its  blows.  I  tore  open  my  vest,  placed  my  hand  over 
the  spot,  and  tried  to  count  the  pulsations  ;  out  there  wen 
two  hearts,  one  beating  at  the  rate  of  a  thousand  beats  a 
minute,  and  the  other  with  a  slow,  dull  motion.  My  throat,  I 
thought,  was  filled  to  the  brim  with  blood,  and  streams  of 
blood  were  pouring  from  my  ears.  I  felt  them  gushing  warm 
down  my  cheeks  and  neck.  With  a  maddened,  desperate  feel 
ing,  I  fled  from  the  room,  and  walked  over  the  flat,  terraced 
roof  of  the  house.  My  body  seemed  to  shrink  and  grow  rigid 
as  I  wrestled  with  the  demon,  and  my  face  to  become  wild, 
lean  and  haggard.  Some  lines  which  had  struck  me,  years 
before,  in  reading  Mrs.  Browning's  "  Rhyme  of  the  Duchesi 
,"  flashed  into  my  mind  :  — 


'<  And  the  horse,  in  stark  despair,  with  hi?  front  hoofs  poised  in  ab, 

On  the  last  verge,  roars  amain  ; 

And  he  hangs,  he  rocks  between—  and  his  nostrils  curdle  in  — 
And  he  shivers,  head  and  hoof,  and  the  flakes  of  foam  fall  off; 

And  his  face  grows  firrce  and  thin." 


THE     VISIONS     OF     HASHEESH.  145 

That  pictuie  of  animal  terror  and  agony  was  mine.  I  was  the 
horse,  hanging  poised  on  the  verge  of  the  giddy  tower,  the 
aext  moment  to  be  borne  sheer  down  to  destruction.  Involun- 
tarily, I  raised  niy  hand  to  feel  the  leanness  and  sharpness  of 
my  face.  Oh  horror  1  the  flesh  had  fallen  from  my  bones,  and 
it  was  a  skeleton  head  that  I  carried  on  my  shoulders  !  With 
one  bound  I  sprang  to  the  parapet,  and  looked  down  into  the 
silent  courtyard,  then  filled  with  the  shadows  thrown  into  it  by 
the  sinking  moon.  Shall  I  cast  myself  down  headlong  ?  was 
the  question  I  proposed  to  myself  ;  but  though  the  horror  of 
that  skeleton  delusion  was  greater  than  my  fear  of  death,  there 
was  an  invisible  hand  at  my  breast  which  pushed  me  away  from 
the  brink. 

I  made  my  way  back  to  the  room,  in  a  state  of  the  keenest 
suffering.  My  companion  was  still  a  locomotive,  rushing  to 
and  fro,  and  jerking  out  his  syllables  with  the  disjointed  accent 
peculiar  to  a  steam-engine.  His  mouth  had  turned  to  brass, 
like  mine,  and  he  raised  the  pitcher  to  his  lips  in  the  attempt 
to  moisten  it,  but  before  he  had  taken  a  mouthful,  set  the 
pitcher  down  again  with  a  yell  of  laughter,  crying  out  :  "  How 
mn  I  take  water  into  my  boiler,  while  I  am  letting  off  steam  T 

But  I  was  now  too  far  gone  to  feel  the  absurdity  of  this,  or 
his  other  exclamations.  I  was  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into 
a  pit  of  unutterable  agony  and  despair.  For,  although  I  \vu- 
oot  conscious  of  real  pain  in  any  part  of  my  body,  the  cruel 
tension  to  which  my  nerves  had  been  subjected  filled  ne 
through  and  through  with  a  sensation  of  distress  which  \\as 
far  more  severe  than  pain  itself.  In  addition  to  this,  the  rem- 
nant of  will  with  which  I  struggled  against  the  demon,  became 
gradually  weaker,  and  I  felt  that  1  should  soon  be  powerless 

7 


146  THE  LANDS  07  THE  SARACEN. 

4 

in  his  hands.  Every  effort  to  preserve  my  reason  was  accom- 
panied by  a  pang  of  mortal  fear,  lest  what  I  now  experienced 
was  insanity,  and  would  hold  mastery  o^er  me  for  ever.  The 
thought  of  death,  which  also  haunted  me,  was  far  less  bitter 
than  this  dread.  I  knew  that  in  the  struggle  which  was  going 
on  in  my  frame,  I  was  borne  fearfully  near  the  dark  gulf,  and 
the  thought  that,  at  such  a  time,  both  reason  and  will  were 
leaving  my  brain,  filled  me  with  an  agony,  the  depth  and 
blackness  of  which  I  should  vainly  attempt  to  portray.  I 
threw  myself  on  my  bed,  with  the  excited  blood  still  roaring 
wildly  in  my  ears,  my  heart  throbbing  with  a  force  that  seemed 
to  be  rapidly  wearing  away  my  life,  my  throat  dry  as  a  pot- 
sherd, and  my  stiffened  tongue  cleaving  to  the  roof  of  my 
mouth — resisting  no  longer,  but  awaiting  my  fate  with  the 
apathy  of  despair. 

My  companion  was  now  approaching  the  same  condition, 
but  as  the  effect  of  the  drug  on  him  had  been  less  violent,  so 
his  stage  of  suffering  was  more  clamorous.  He  cried  out  to 
me  that  he  was  dying,  implored  me  to  help  him,  and  reproached 
uie  vehemently,  because  I  lay  there  silent,  motionless,  and 
apparently  careless  of  his  danger.  "  Why  will  he  disturb 
me  ?"  I  thought ;  "  he  thinks  he  is  dying,  but  what  is  death  to 
madness  ?  Let  him  die  ;  a  thousand  deaths  were  more  easily 
borne  than  the  pangs  I  suffer."  While  I  was  sufficiently  con- 
scious to  hear  his  exclamations,  they  only  provoked  my  keen 
lunger  ;  but  after  a  time,  my  senses  became  clouded,  and  I 
sank  into  a  stupor.  As  near  as  I  can  judge,  this  must  have 
been  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  rather  more  than  five 
hours  after  the  hasheesh  began  to  take  effect.  I  lay  thus  al] 
the  following  day  and  night,  in  a  state  of  gray  blank  oblivion, 


THE    VISIONS    OF     HASHEESH.  147 

broken  only  by  a  single  wandering  gleam  of  consciousness  1 
recollect  hearing  Francois'  voice.  He  told  me  afterwards  that 
I  arose,  attempted  to  dress  myself,  drank  two  cups  of  coffee, 
and  then  fell  back  into  the  same  death-like  stupor  ;  bat  of  all 
this,  I  did  not  retain  the  least  knowledge.  On  the  morning  of 
the  second  day,  after  a  sleep  of  thirty  hours,  I  awoke  again  to 
the  world,  with  a  system  utterly  prostrate  and  unstrung,  and 
a  brain  clouded  with  the  lingering  images  of  my  visions.  I 
knew  where  I  was,  and  what  had  happened  to  me,  but  all  that 
I  saw  still  remained  unreal  and  shadowy.  There  was  no  taste 
in  what  I  ate,  no  refreshment  in  what  I  drauk,  and  it  required 
a  painful  effort  to  comprehend  what  was  said  to  me  and  return 
a  coherent  answer.  Will  and  Reason  had  come  back,  but  they 
still  sat  unsteadily  upon  their  thrones. 

My  friend,  who  was  much  further  advanced  in  his  recovery, 
accompanied  me  to  the  adjoining  bath,  which  I  hoped  would 
assist  in  restoring  me.  It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  I  pre- 
served the  outward  appearance  of  consciousness.  In  spite  of 
myself,  a  veil  now  and  then  fell  over  ray  mind,  and  after 
wandering  for  years,  as  it  seemed,  in  some  distant  world,  I 
awoke  with  a  shock,  to  find  myself  in  the  steamy  halls  of  the 
bath,  with  a  brown  Syrian  polishing  my  limbs.  1  suspect  that 
my  language  must  Jiave  been  rambling  and  incoherent,  and 
that  the  menials  who  had  me  in  charge  understood  my  condi 
tion,  for  as  soon  as  I  had  stretched  myself  upon  the  com  h 
which  follows  the  bath,  a  glass  of  very  acid  sherbet  was  pre- 
sented to  me,  and  after  drinking  it  I  experienced  instant  relief 
Still  the  spell  was  not  wholly  broken,  and  for  two  or  threfl 
days  I  continued  subject  to  frequent  involuntary  fits  of  absence, 
which  made  me  insensible,  for  the  time,  to  all  that  was  passing 


148  TUK     LAN!'*     OF     THE     SARACEH. 

around  me.  I  walked  the  streets  of  Damascus  with  a  strange 
consciousness  that  I  was  in  some  other  place  at  the  same  time, 
and  with  a  constant  effort  to  reurite  my  divided  perceptions. 

Previous  to  the  experiment,  we  had  decided  on  making  a 
bargain  with  the  shekh  for  the  journey  to  Palmyra.  The 
state,  however,  in  which  we  now  found  ourselves,  obliged  us  tc 
relinquish  the  plan.  Perhaps  the  excitement  of  a  forced  march 
across  the  desert,  and  a  conflict  with  the  hostile  Arabs,  which 
was  quite  likely  to  happen,  might  have  assisted  us  in  throwing 
off  the  baneful  effects  of  the  drug  ;  but  all  the  charm  which 
lay  in  the  name  of  Palmyra  and  the  romantic  interest  of  the 
trip,  was  gone.  I  was  without  courage  and  without  energy, 
and  nothing  remained  for  me  but  to  leave  Damascus. 

Yet,  fearful  as  my  rash  experiment  proved  to  me,  I  did  not 
regret  having  made  it.  It  revealed  to  me  deeps  of  raptnrt 
and  of  suffering  which  my  natural  faculties  never  could  have 
sounded.  It  has  taught  me  the  majesty  of  human  reason  and 
of  human  will,  even  in  the  weakest,  and  the  awful  peril  of 
tampering  with  that  which  assails  their  integrity.  I  have  here 
faithfully  and  fully  written  out  my  experience,  on  account  of 
the  lesson  which  it  may  convey  to  others.  If  I  have  unfortu 
nately  failed  in  my  design,  and  have  but  awakened  that  restless 
curiosity  which  I  have  endeavored  to  forestall,  let  me  beg  aL' 
who  are  thereby  led  to  repeat  the  experiment  upon  themselves, 
that  they  be  content  to  take  the  portion  of  hasheesh  which  is 
considered  sufficient  for  one  man,  and  not,  like  me,  swallow 
enough  for  six. 


A     DI8SEKTATION     ON     BATHING    AND     BODIES.  149 


t     DISSERTATION     ON     BATHING     AND     BODIES. 

"  No  swan-soft  woman,  rubbed  with  lucid  oils, 
The  gift  of  OP  enamored  god,  more  fair." 

BKOWNIKQ. 

WE  shall  not  set  out  from  Damascus — we  shall  not  leave  the 
Pearl  of  the  Orient  to  glimmer  through  the  seas  of  foliage 
wherein  it  lies  buried — without  consecrating  a  day  to  the 
Bath,  that  material  agent  of  peace  and  good-will  unto  men. 
We  have  bathed  in  the  Jordan,  like  Naaman,  and  been  made 
elean  ;  let  us  now  see  whether  Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of 
Damascus,  are  better  than  the  waters  of  Israel. 

The  Bath  is  the  "  peculiar  institution  "  of  the  East.  Coffee 
has  become  colonized  in  France  and  America ;  the  Pipe  is  a 
cosmopolite,  and  his  blue,  joyous  breath  congeals  under 
the  Arctic  Circle,  or  melts  languidly  into  the  soft  airs  of  the 
Polynesian  Isles  ;  but  the  Bath,  that  sensuous  elysium  which 
cradled  the  dreams  of  Plato,  and  the  visions  of  Zoroaster,  and 
the  solemn  meditations  of  Mahomet,  is  only  to  be  found  under 
an  Oriental  sky.  The  naked  natives  of  the  Torrid  Zone 
are  amphibious ;  they  do  not  bathe,  they  live  in  the  water 
The  European  and  Anglo- American  wash  themselves  and 
think  they  ha\e  bathed  ;  they  "huddrr  under  cold  showers  and 


150  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACKN. 

perform  laborious  antics  with  coarse  towels.  As  for  trie 
Hydropathist,  the  Genius  of  the  Bath,  whose  dwelling  ia 
in  Damascus,  would  be  convulsed  with  scornful  laughter,  conld 
he  behold  that  aqueous  Diogenes  sitting  in  his  tub,  or  stretched 
out  in  his  wet  wrappings,  like  a  sodden  mummy,  in  a  cata 
comb  of  blankets  and  feather  beds.  As  the  rose  in  the  East 
has  a  rarer  perfume  than  in  other  lands,  so  does  the  Bath 
bestow  a  superior  purification  and  impart  a  more  profound 
enjoyment. 

Listen  not  unto  the  lamentations  of  travellers,  who  complain 
of  the  heat,  and  the  steam,  and  the  dislocations  of  their  joints 
They  belong  to  the  stiff-necked  generation,  who  resist  the  pro- 
cesses, whereunto  the  Oriental  yields  himself  body  and  sonl 
He  who  is  bathed  in  Damascus,  must  be  as  clay  in  the  hand* 
of  a  potter.  The  Syrians  marvel  how  the  Frank?  can  walk, 
so  difficult  is  it  to  bend  their  joints.  Moreover,  they  know  the 
difference  between  him  who  comes  to  the  Bath  out  of  a  mere 
idle  curiosity,  and  him  who  has  tasted  its  delight  and  holds  it 
in  due  honor.  Only  the  latter  is  permitted  to  know  all  its 
mysteries.  The  former  is  carelessly  hurried  through  the  ordi- 
nary forms  of  bathing,  and,  if  any  trace  of  the  cockney  remain 
in  him,  is  quite  as  likely  to  be  disgusted  as  pleased.  Again, 
there  are  many  second  and  third-rate  baths,  whither  cheating 
dragomen  conduct  their  victims,  in  consideration  of  a  division 
of  spoils  with  the  bath-keeper.  Hence  it  is,  that  the  Bath  has 
received  but  partial  justice  at  the  hands  of  tourists  in  the 
East.  If  any  one  doubts  this,  let  him  clothe  himself  with 
Oriental  passiveness  and  resignation,  go  to  the  Hamraan 
el-Khyateen,  at  Damascus,  or  the  Batli  of  Mahmoud  Pasha 
at  Constantinople,  and  do.mand  that  he  be  perfectly  bathed. 


THE    BATH.  151 

Come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you  the  mysteries  of  the 
perfect  bath.  Here  is  the  entrance,  a  heavy  Saracenic  arch, 
opening  upon  the  crowded  bazaar.  We  descend  a  few  steps  to 
the  marble  pavement  of  a  lofty  octagonal  hall,  lighted  by  a 
dome.  There  is  a  jet  of  sparkling  water  in  the  centre,  falling 
into  a  heavy  stone  basin.  A  platform  about  five  feet  in  height 
runs  around  the  hall,  and  on  this  are  ranged  a  number  of  nar- 
row couches,  with  their  heads  to  the  wall,  like  the  pallets  in 
a  hospital  ward.  The  platform  is  covered  with  straw  mat- 
ting, and  from  the  wooden  gallery  which  rises  above  it  are 
suspended  towels,  with  blue  and  crimson  borders.  The  master 
of  the  bath  receives  us  courteously,  and  conducts  us  to  one  of 
the  vacant  couches.  We  kick  off  our  red  slippers  below,  and 
mount  the  steps  to  the  platform.  Yonder  traveller,  in  Frank 
dress,  who  has  just  entered,  goes  up  with  his  boots  on,  and  we 
know,  from  that  fact,  what  sort  of  a  bath  he  will  get. 

As  the  work  of  disrobing  proceeds,  a  dark-eyed  boy  appears 
with  a  napkin,  which  he  holds  before  us,  ready  to  bind  it  about 
the  waist,  as  soon  as  we  regain  our  primitive  form.  Another 
attendant  throws  a  napkin  over  our  shoulders  and  wraps  a 
third  around  our  head,  turban-wise.  He  then  thrusts  a  pair  of 
wooden  clogs  upon  our  feet,  and,  taking  us  by  the  arm,  steadies 
our  tottering  and  clattering  steps,  as  we  pass  through  a  low 
door  and  a  warm  ante-chambervinto  the  first  hall  of  the  bath. 
The  light,  falling  dimly  through  a  cluster  of  bull's-eyes  in  the 
domed  ceiling,  shows,  first,  a  silver  thread  of  water,  playing 
in  a  steamy  atmosphere  ;  next,  some  dark  motionless  objects, 
stretched  out  on  a  low  central  platform  of  marble.  The 
attendant  spreads  a  linen  sheet  in  one  of  the  vacant  places, 
places  a  pillow  at  one  end,  takes  off  our  clogs,  deposits  as 


152  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

gently  on  onr  back,  and  leaves  us.  The  pavement  is  warn 
beneath  us,  and  the  first  breath  we  draw  gives  us  a  sense  oi 
suffocation.  But  a  bit  of  burning  aloe-wood  has  just  been 
carried  through  the  hall,  and  the  steam  is  permeated  with  fra 
grance.  The  dark-eyed  boy  appears  with  a  narghileh,  which 
he  places  beside  us,  offering  the  amber  mouth-piece  to  our  sub- 
missive lips.  The  smoke  we  inhale  has  an  odor  of  roses  ;  and 
as  the  pipe  bubbles  with  our  breathing,  we  feel  that  the  dews 
of  sweat  gather  heavily  upon  us.  The  attendant  now  re- 
appears, kneels  beside  us,  and  gently  kneads  us  with  dexterous 
hands.  Although  no  anatomist,  he  knows  every  muscle  and 
sinew  whose  suppleness  gives  ease  to  the  body,  and  so  moulds 
and  manipulates  them  that  we  lose  the  rigidity  of  our  mechan- 
ism, and  become  plastic  in  his  hands.  He  turns  us  upon  our 
face,  repeats  the  same  process  upon  the  back,  and  leaves  us  a 
little  longer  to  lie  there  passively,  glistening  in  our  own  dew. 
We  are  aroused  from  a  reverie  about  nothing  by  a  dark 
brown  shape,  who  replaces  the  clogs,  puts  his  arm  around  our 
waist  and  leads  us  into  an  inner  hall,  with  a  steaming  tank  in 
the  centre.  Here  he  slips  us  off  the  brink,  and  we  collapse 
over  head  and  ears  in  the  fiery  fluid.  Once — twice — we  dip 
into  the  delicious  heat,  and  then  ere  led  into  a  marble  alcove, 
and  seated  flat  upon  the  floor.  The  attendant  stands  behind 
us,  and  we  now  perceive  that  his  hands  are  encased  in  dark 
hair-gloves  He  pounces  upon  an  arm,  which  he  rubs  until, 
like  a  serpent,  we  slough  the  worn-out  skin,  and  resume  our 
infantile  smoothness  and  fairness.  No  man  can  be  called  clean 
until  he  has  bathed  in  the  East.  Let  him  walk  directly  from 
his  accustomed  bath  and  self-friction  with  towels,  to  the  Ham- 
mam  el-Khyateen,  and  the  attendant  will  exclaim,  as  he  shake* 


THE     BATH.  153 

out  his  hair-gloves :  "  0  Frank  !  it  is  a  long  time  since  yoi 
have  bathed/  The  other  arm  follows,  the  back,  the  breast, 
the  legs,  until  the  work  Is  complete,  and  we  know  precisely  how 
a  horse  feels  after  he  has,  been  curried. 

Now  the  attendant  turns  two  cocks  at  the  back  of  the 
alcove,  and  holding  a  basin  alternately  under  the  cold  and  hot 
streams,  floods  us  at  first  with  a  fiery  dash,  that  sends  a  deli- 
cious warm  shiver  through  every  nerve  ;  then,  with  milder 
applications,  lessening  the  temperature  of  the  water  by  semi- 
tones, until,  from  the  highest  key  of  heat  which  we  can  bear, 
we  glide  rapturously  down  the  gamut  until  we  reach  the 
lowest  bass  of  coolness.  The  skin  has  by  this  time  attained  an 
exquisite  sensibility,  and  answers  to  these  changes  of  tempera- 
ture with  thrills  of  the  purest  physical  pleasure.  In  fact,  the 
whole  frame  seems  purged  of  its  earthy  nature  and  trans 
formed  into  something  of  a  finer  and  more  delicate  texture 

After  a  pause,  the  attendant  makes  his  appearance  with  a 
large  wooden  bowl,  a  piece  of  soap,  and  a  bunch  of  palm- 
fibres.  He  squats  down  beside  the  bowl,  and  speedily  creates 
a  mass  of  snowy  lather,  which  grows  up  to  a  pyramid  and 
topples  over  the  edge.  Seizing  us  by  the  crown-tuft  of  hair 
npon  our  shaven  head,  he  plants  the  foamy  bunch  of  fibres  full 
in  our  face.  The  world  vanishes ;  sight,  hearing,  smell,  taste 
(unless  we  open  our  mouth),  and  breathing,  are  cut  off;  we 
have  become  nebulous.  Although  our  eyes  are  shut,  we  seem 
to  see  a  blank  whiteness ;  and,  feeling  nothing  but  a  son 
fleeciness,  we  doubt  whether  we  be  not  the  Olympian  cloud 
which  visited  lo.  But  the  cloud  clears  away  before  strangula- 
tion begins,  and  the  velvety  mass  descends  upon  the  body 
Twice  we  are  thus  "  slushed "  from  head  to  foot,  and  madt 


154  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

more  slippery  than  the  anointed  wrestlers  of  the  Greek  games 
Then  the  basin  comes  again  into  play,  and  we  glide  once  mort 
musically  through  the  scale  of  temperature. 

The  brown  sculptor  has  now  near!  7  completed  his  task.  Tht 
figure  of  clay  which  entered  the  bath  is  transformed  into 
polished  marble.  He  turns  the  body  from  side  to  side,  and 
lifts  the  limbs  to  see  whether  the  workmanship  is  adequate  to 
his  conception.  His  satisfied  gaze  proclaims  his  success.  A 
skilful  bath-attendant  has  a  certain  aesthetic  pleasure  in  his 
occupation.  The  bodies  he  polishes  become  to  some  extent 
his  own  workmanship,  and  he  feels  responsible  for  their 
symmetry  or  deformity.  He  experiences  a  degree  of  triumph 
in  contemplating  a  beautiful  form,  which  has  grown  more  airily 
light  and  beautiful  under  his  hands.  He  is  a  great  connoisseur 
of  bodies,  and  could  pick  you  out  the  finest  specimens  with  as 
ready  an  eye  as  an  artist. 

I  envy  those  old  Greek  bathers,  into  whose  hands  were 
delivered  Pericles,  and  Alcibiades,  and  the  perfect  models  of 
Phidias.  They  had  daily  before  their  eyes  the  highest  typos 
rf  Beauty  which  the  world  has  ever  produced  ;  for  of  all 
things  that  are  beautiful,  the  human  body  is  the  crown.  Now, 
since  the  delusion  of  artists  has  been  overthrown,  and  we  know 
that  Grecian  Art  is  but  the  simple  reflex  of  Nature — that  the 
old  masterpieces  of  sculpture  were  no  miraculous  embodiments 
of  a  beau  ideal,  but  copies  of  living  forms — we  must  admit 
that  in  uo  other  age  of  the  world  has  the  physical  Man  been 
no  perfectly  developed.  The  nearest  approach  I  have  evei 
geen  to  the  symmetry  of  ancient  sculpture  was  among  the 
Arab  tribes  of  Ethiopia.  Our  Saxon  race  can  supply  th« 
athlete,  bat  not  the  Apollo. 


CIRCASSIAN     BEAUTY  155 

Oriental  life  is  too  full  of  repose,  and  the  Ottoman  rao^  has 
become  too  degenerate  through  indulgence,  to  exhibit  mam 
striking  specimens  of  physical  beauty.  The  face  is  generally 
fine,  but  the  body  is  apt  to  be  lank,  and  with  imperfect  muscu 
lar  development.  The  best  forms  I  saw  in  the  baths  were 
those  of  laborers,  who,  with  a  good  deal  of  rugged  strength, 
showed  some  grace  and  harmony  of  proportion.  It  may  be 
received  as  a  general  rule,  that  the  physical  development  of 
the  European  is  superior  to  that  of  the  Oriental,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Circassians  and  Georgians,  whose  beauty  well 
entitles  them  to  the  distinction  of  giving  their  name  to  our 
race. 

So  far  as  female  beauty  is  concerned,  the  Circassian  womeD 
have  no  superiors.  They  have  preserved  in  their  mountain 
home  the  purity  of  the  Grecian  models,  and  still  display  the 
perfect  physical  loveliness,  whose  type  has  descended  to  QS  in 
the  Venus  de  Medici.  The  Frank  who  is  addicted  to  wander- 
ing about  the  streets  of  Oriental  cities  can  hardly  fail  to  be 
favored  with  a  sight  of  the  faces  of  these  beauties.  More  than 
once  it  has  happened  to  me,  in  meeting  a  veiled  lady,  sailing 
along  in  her  balloon-like  feridjee,  that  she  has  allowed  the  veil 
to  drop  by  a  skilful  accident,  as  she  passed,  and  has  startled 
me  with  the  vision  of  her  beauty,  recalling  the  line  of  the  Per- 
sian poet :  "  Astonishment  1  is  this  the  dawn  of  the  glorious 
sun,  or  is  it  the  full  moon  ?"  The  Circassian  face  is  a  pure 
oval ;  the  forehead  is  low  and  fair,  "  an  excellent  thing  in 
woman,"  and  the  skin  of  an  ivory  whiteness,  except  the  faint 
pink  of  the  cheeks  and  the  ripe,  roseate  stain  of  the  lips.  The 
hair  is  dark,  glossy,  and  luxuriant,  exquisitely  outlined  on  the 
temples  ;  the  eyebrows  slightly  arched,  and  drawn  with  a 


156  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

delicate  pencil  ;  while  lashes  like  "rays  of  darkness"  shad* 
the  large,  dark,  humid  orbs  below  them.  The  alabaster  of  the 
face,  so  pure  as  scarcely  to  show  the  blue  branching  of  the 
veins  on  the  temples,  is  lighted  by  those  superb  eyes — 

"  Shining  eyes,  like  antique  jewels  set  in  Parian  statue-stone," 

— whose  wells  are  so  dark  and  deep,  that  you  are  cheated  into 
the  belief  that  a  glorious  soul  looks  out  of  them. 

Once,  by  an  unforeseen  chance,  I  beheld  the  Circassian  form 
in  its  most  perfect  development.  I  was  on  board  an  Austrian 
steamer  in  the  harbor  of  Smyrna,  when  the  harem  of  a  Turk- 
ish pasha  came  out  in  a  boat  to  embark  for  Alexandria.  The 
sea  was  rather  rough,  and  nearly  all  the  officers  of  the  steamer 
were  ashore.  There  were  six  veiled  and  swaddled  women,  with 
a  black  eunuch  as  guard,  in  the  boat,  which  lay  tossing  for  some 
time  at  the  foot  of  the  gangway  ladder,  before  the  frightened 
passengers  could  summon  courage  to  step  out.  At  last  tin 
youngest  of  them — a  Circassian  girl  of  not  more  than  fifteen 
or  sixteen  years  of  age — ventured  upon  the  ladder,  clasping  the 
hand-rail  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  held  together 
the  folds  of  her  cumbrous  feridjee.  I  was  standing  in  the 
gangway,  watching  her,  when  a  slight  lurch  of  the  steamer 
caused  her  to  loose  her  hold  of  the  garment,  which,  fastened 
at  the  neck,  was  blown  back  from  her  shoulders,  leaving  her 
body  screened  but  by  a  single  robe  of  light,  gauzy  silk. 
Through  this,  the  marble  whiteness  of  her  skin,  the  roundness, 
the  glorious  symmetry  of  her  form,  flashed  upon  me,  as  a  vision 
of  Aphrodite,  seen 

"Through  leagues  of  shimmering  water,  like  a  star." 


THK     IIL'MAN      BODY.  151 

It  was  but  ft  momentary  glimpse  ;  yet  that  moment  convinced 
me  that  forms  of  Phidiau  perfection  are  still  nurtured  in  the 
vales  of  Caucasus. 

The  necessary  disguise  of  dress  hides  from  us  much  of  the 
beauty  and  dignity  of  Humanity.  I  have  seen  men  who 
appeared  heroic  in  the  freedom  of  nakedness,  shrink  almost  into 
absolute  vulgarity,  when  clothed.  The  soul  not  only  sits  al 
the  windows  of  the  eyes,  and  hangs  upon  the  gateway  of  the 
lips  ;  she  speaks  as  well  in  the  intricate,  yet  harmonious  lines 
of  the  body,  and  the  ever-varying  play  of  the  limbs.  Look  at 
the  torso  of  Ilioneus,  the  sou  of  Niobe,  and  see  what  an  agony 
of  terror  and  supplication  cries  out  from  that  headless  and 
limbless  trunk  !  Decapitate  Laocoon,  and  his  knotted  muscles 
will  still  express  the  same  dreadful  suffering  and  resistance. 
Xone  knew  this  better  than  the  ancient  sculptors ;  and  hence 
it  was  that  we  find  many  of  their  statues  of  distinguished  men 
wholly  or  partly  undraped.  Such  a  view  of  Art  would  be 
considered  transcendental  now-a-days,  when  our  dress,  our  cos- 
tumes, and  our  modes  of  speech  either  ignore  the  existence  of 
our  bodies,  or  treat  them  with  little  of  that  reverence  which  is 
their  due. 

But,  while  we  have  been  thinking  these  thoughts,  the 
attendant  has  been  waiting  to  give  us  a  final  plunge  into  the 
seething  tank.  Again  we  slide  down  to  the  eyes  in  the  fluid 
heat,  which  wraps  us  closely  about  until  we  tingle  with  exqui- 
site hot  shiverings.  Now  comes  the  graceful  boy,  with  clean, 
tool,  lavendered  napkins,  which  he  folds  around  our  waist  and 
wraps  softly  about  the  head.  The  pattens  are  put  upon  oui 
feet,  and  the  brown  arm  steadies  us  geutly  through  the  sweat- 
ing-room and  ante-chamber  into  the  outer  hall,  where  we  mount 


158  THE  LANDS  OF  TH£  SARACEN. 

to  our  couch.  We  sink  gently  upon  the  cool  linen,  and  the 
boy  covers  us  with  a  perfumed  sheet.  Then,  kneeling  beside 
the  couch,  he  presses  the  folds  of  the  sheet  around  us,  that  it 
may  absorb  the  lingering  moisture  and  the  limpid  perspiration 
.->hed  by  the  departing  heat.  As  fast  as  the  linen  becomes 
damp,  he  replaces  it  with  fresh,  pressing  the  folds  about  us  as 
tecderly  as  a  mother  arranges  the  drapery  of  her  sleeping 
babe ;  for  we,  though  of  the  stature  of  a  man,  are  now  infan- 
tile in  our  helpless  happiness.  Then  he  takes  our  passive 
hand  and  warms  its  palm  by  the  soft  friction  of  his  own  ; 
after  which,  moving  to  the  end  of  the  conch,  he  lifts  our 
feet  upon  his  lap,  and  repeats  the  friction  upon  their  soles, 
until  the  blood  comes  back  to  the  surface  of  the  body  with  a 
misty  glow,  like  that  which  steeps  the  clouds  of  a  summer 
afternoon. 

We  have  but  one  more  process  to  undergo,  and  the  attend- 
ant already  stands  at  the  head  of  our  couch.  This  is  the 
course  of  passive  gymnastics,  which  excites  so  much  alarm  and 
resistance  in  the  ignorant  Franks.  It  is  only  resistance  that 
is  dangerous,  completely  neutralizing  the  enjoyment  of  the  pro- 
cess. Give  yourself  with  a  blind  submission  into  the  arms  of 
the  brown  Fate,  and  he  will  lead  you  to  new  chambers  of 
delight.  He  lifts  us  to  a  sitting  posture,  places  himself  behind 
as,  and  folds  his  arms  around  our  body,  alternately  tightening 
ind  relaxing  his  clasp,  as  if  to  test  the  elasticity  of  the  ribs, 
fhen  seizing  one  arm,  he  draws  it  across  the  opposite  shoulder, 
until  the  joint  cracks  like  a  percussion-cap.  The  shoulder- 
blades,  the  elbows,  the  wrists,  and  the  finger-joints  are  all  made 
to  fire  off  their  muffled  volleys  ;  and  then,  placing  one  kne« 
between  our  shoulders,  and  clasping  bo'.h  hands  upon  our  fore 


THE     BATH.  159 

bead,  he  draws  our  head  back  until  we  feel  a  great  snap  of  tlit 
vertebral  column.  Now  he  descends  to  the  hip-joints,  kneeSj 
ankles,  and  feet,  forcing  each  and  all  to  discharge  a  salvo  dt 
joie.  The  slight  languor  left  from  the  bath  is  gone,  and  an 
airy,  delicate  exhilaration,  befitting  the  winged  Mercury,  takes 
its  place. 

The  boy,  kneeling,  presents  us  with  ajinjan  of  foamy  coffee, 
followed  by  a  glass  of  sherbet  cooled  with  the  snows  of  Leba- 
non. He  presently  returns  with  a  narghileh,  which  we  smoke 
by  the  effortless  inhalation  of  the  lungs.  Thus  we  lie  in  per- 
fect repose,  soothed  by  the  fragrant  weed,  and  idly  watching 
the  silent  Orientals,  who  are  undressing  for  the  bath  or  reposing 
like  ourselves.  Through  the  arched  entrance,  we  see  a  picture 
of  the  bazaars  :  a  shadowy  painting  of  merchants  seated  amid 
their  silks  and  spices,  dotted  here  and  there  with  golden  drops 
and  splashes  of  sunshine,  which  have  trickled  through  the  roof. 
The  scene  paints  itself  upon  our  eyes,  yet  wakes  no  slightest 
stir  of  thought.  The  brain  is  a  becalmed  sea,  without  a  ripple 
on  its  shores.  Mind  and  body  are  drowned  in  delicious  rest ; 
and  we  no  longer  remember  what  we  are.  We  only  know  that 
there  is  an  Existence  somewhere  in  the  air,  and  that  wherever 
it  is,  and  whatever  it  may  be,  it  is  happy. 

More  and  moro  dim  grows  the  picture.  The  colors  fade  and 
blend  into  each  other,  and  finally  merge  into  a  bed  of  rosy 
clouds,  flooded  with  the  radiance  of  some  unseen  sun.  Gentlier 
than  "tired  eyelids  upon  tired  eyes,"  sleep  lies  upon  our 
senses :  a  half-conscious  sleep,  wherein  we  know  that  we  behold 
light  and  inhale  fragrance.  As  gently,  the  clouds  dissipate 
into  air,  and  we  are  born  again  into  the  world.  The  Bath  is 
at  an  end.  We  arise  and  put  on  our  garments,  and  walk  fort! 


160  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  8ARACEH. 

into  the  suuny  streets  of  Damascus.  Bat  as  we  go  homewards. 
we  involuntarily  look  down  to  see  whether  we  are  really  tread- 
ing upon  the  earth,  wondering,  perhaps,  that  we  should  be 
content  to  do  so,  when  it  would  be  so  easy  to  soar  above  th* 
house-tops. 


DEPASTURE     iBOM     DAMASCUS  161 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BAALBEO    AND    LEBANON. 

Departure  from  Damascus — The  Fountains  of  the  Pharpar — Puss  of  the  Anti-Lebanoo- 
Adventure  with  the  Druses — The  Range  of  Lebanon— Tlie  Demon  of  Hash  seal 
departs — Impressions  of  Baalbec — The  Temple  of  the  Sun — Titanic  Masonry — Th« 
Rained  Mosque — Camp  on  Lebanon — Rascality  of  the  Guide — The  Summit  of  Lebanon 
—The  Sacred  Cedars— The  Christians  of  Lebanon — An  Afternooa  in  Eden — Ragged 
Travel — We  Reach  the  Coast — Return  to  Beyrout 

"  Peer  and  Baalim 
Forsake  their  temples  dim." 

MILTOM. 

u  The  cedars  wave  on  Lebanon, 
But  Judah's  statelier  maids  are  gone." 

••ML 

BBTROUT,  Thursday,  May  27, 18W. 

AFTER  a  stay  of  eight  days  in  Damascus,  we  called  our  men, 
Dervish  and  Mustapha,  again  into  requisition,  loaded  our 
enthusiastic  mules,  and  mounted  our  despairing  horses.  There 
were  two  other  parties  on  the  way  to  Baalbec — an  English 
gentleman  and  lady,  and  a  solitary  Englishman,  so  that  our 
united  forces  made  an  imposing  caravan.  There  is  always  a 
custom-house  examination,  not  on  entering,  but  on  issuing  from 
an  Oriental  city,  but  travellers  can  avoid  it  by  procuring  the 
company  of  a  Consular  Janissary  as  far  as  the  gate.  Mr. 
Wood,  the  British  Consul,  lent  us  one  of  his  officers  for  the 


THE     LANDS     OF    THE     SARACEN. 

occasion,  whom  we  found  waiting,  outside  of  the  wall,  to  receive 
his  private  fee  for  the  service.  We  mounted  the  long,  barren 
hill  west  of  the  plain,  and  at  the  summit,  net«r  the  tomb  of  a 
Moslem  shekh,  turned  to  take  a  last  long  lock  at  the  bowery 
plain,  and  the  minarets  of  the  city,  glittering  through  the  blue 
morning  vapor. 

A  few  paces  further  on  the  rocky  road,  a  different  scene 
presented  itself  to  us.  There  lay,  to  the  westward,  a  long 
stretch  of  naked  yellow  mountains,  basking  in  the  hot  glare  ol 
the  sun,  and  through  the  centre,  deep  down  in  the  heart  of  the 
arid  landscape,  a  winding  line  of  living  green  showed  the  course 
of  the  Barrada.  We  followed  the  river,  until  the  path  reached 
an  impassable  gorge,  which  occasioned  a  detour  of  two  or 
three  hours.  We  then  descended  to  the  bed  of  the  dell,  where 
the  vegetation,  owing  to  the  radiated  heat  from  the  mountains 
and  the  fertilizing  stimulus  of  the  water  below,  was  even  richer 
than  on  the  plain  of  Damascus.  The  trees  were  plethoric  with 
an  overplus  of  life.  The  boughs  of  the  mulberries  were 
weighed  down  with  the  burden  of  the  leaves  ;  pomegranates 
were  in  a  violent  eruption  of  blossoms  ;  and  the  foliage  of  the 
fig  and  poplar  was  of  so  deep  a  hue  that  it  shone  black  in  the 
sun. 

Passing  through  a  gateway  of  rock,  so  narrow  that  we  were 
often  obliged  to  ride  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  we  reached  a 
little  meadow,  beyond  which  was  a  small  hamlet,  almost  hidden 
hi  the  leaves.  Here  the  mountains  again  approached  each 
Other,  and  from  the  side  of  that  on  the  right  hand,  the  maiii 
body  of  the  Barrada,  or  Pharpar,  gushed  forth  in  one  foil 
stream.  The  fountain  is  nearly  double  the  volume  of  that  of 
the  Jordan  at  Bamas,  and  much  more  beautiful.  The  foumla 


THE     FOUNTAINS     OF    THE    PHARPAB.  16c 

tions  of  an  ancient  building,  probably  a  temple,  overhang  it, 
and  tall  poplars  and  sycamores  cover  it  with  impenetrable 
ehade.  From  the  low  aperture,  where  it  bursts  into  the  light 
its  waters,  white  with  foam,  bound  away  flashing  in  the  chance 
rays  of  sunshine,  until  they  are  lost  to  sight  in  the  dense,  dark 
foliage.  We  sat  an  hour  on  the  ruined  walls,  listening  to  the 
roar  and  rush  of  the  flood,  and  enjoying  the  shade  of  the  wal- 
nuts and  sycamores.  Soon  after  leaving,  our  path  crossed  a 
small  stream,  which  comes  down  to  the  Barrada  from  the  upper 
valleys  of  the  Anti-Lebanon,  and  entered  a  wild  pass,  faced 
with  cliffs  of  perpendicular  rock.  An  old  bridge,  of  one  arch, 
spanned  the  chasm,  out  of  which  we  climbed  to  a  tract  of  high 
meadow  laud.  In  the  pass  there  were  some  fragments  of 
auiiect  columns,  traces  of  an  aqueduct,  and  inscriptions  on  the 
rocks,  among  which  Mr.  H.  found  the  name  of  Antoninus 
The  place  is  not  mentioned  in  any  book  of  travel  I  have  seen,  as 
it  is  not  on  the  usual  road  from  Damascus  to  Baalbec. 

As  we  were  emerging  from  the  pass,  we  saw  a  company  of 
twelve  armed  men  seated  in  the  grass,  near  the  roadside. 
They  were  wild-looking  characters,  and  eyed  us  somewhat 
sharply  as  we  passed.  We  greeted  them  with  the  usual 
"  salaam  aleikoom  !"  which  they  did  not  return.  The  same 
evening,  as  we  encamped  at  the  village  of  Zebdeni,  about  three 
hours  further  up  the  valley,  we  were  startled  by  a  great  noise 
and  outcry,  with  the  firing  of  pistols.  It  happened,  as  we 
learned  on  inquiring  the  cause  of  all  this  confusion,  that  the 
men  we  saw  in  the  pass  were  rebel  Druses,  who  were  then 
lying  in  wait  for  the  Shekh  of  Zebdeni,  whom,  with  his  son, 
they  had  taken  captive  soon  after  we  passed.  The  news  had 
by  some  means  b  n  conveyed  to  the  village,  and  a  compai  y 


154  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SAKACKN. 

of  about  two  hundred  persons  was  then  marching  out  to  the 
rescue.  The  noise  they  made  was  probably  to  give  the  Druses 
intimation  of  their  coming,  and  thus  i  void  a  fight.  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  of  the  mountaineers  of  Lebanon  would  will- 
ingly take  part  against  the  Druses,  who,  in  fact,  are  not 
fighting  so  much  against  the  institution  of  the  conscription 
law,  as  its  abuse.  The  law  ordains  that  the  conscript  shall 
eerv«  for  five  years  ;  but  since  its  establishment,  as  I  have 
been  informed,  there  has  not  been  a  single  instance  of  dis- 
charge. It  amounts,  therefore,  to  lifelong  servitude,  and  there 
is  little  wonder  that  these  independent  sons  of  the  mountains, 
as  well  as  the  tribes  inhabiting  the  Syrian  Desert,  should  rebel 
rather  than  submit. 

The  next  day,  we  crossed  a  pass  in  the  Anti-Lebanon  beyond 
Zebdeni,  descended  a  beautiful  valley  on  the  western  side, 
under  a  ridge  which  was  still  dotted  with  patches  of  snow, 
and  after  travelling  for  some  hours  over  a  wide,  barren  height, 
the  last  of  the  range,  saw  below  us  the  plain  of  Baalbec.  The 
grand  ridge  of  Lebanon  opposite,  crowned  with  glittering 
fields  of  snow,  shone  out  clearly  through  the  pure  air,  and  the 
hoary  head  of  Hermon,  far  in  the  south,  lost  something  of  its 
grandeur  by  the  comparison.  Though  there  is  a  "  divide,"  or 
watershed,  between  Husbeiya,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Hermon, 
and  Baalbec,  whose  springs  join  the  Orontes,  which  flowa 
northward  to  Antioch,  the  great  natural  separation  of  the  two 
chains  continues  unbroken  to  the  Gulf  of  Akaba,  in  the  Red 
Sea,  A  little  beyond  Baalbec,  the  Anti-Lebanon  terminates, 
sinking  into  the  Syrian  plain,  while  the  Lebanon,  though  itl 
uame  and  general  features  are  lost,  about  twenty  miles  furthei 
to  the  north  is  succeeded  by  other  ranges,  which,  thougb 


THE    DEMON    OF    HASHEESH     DEPARTS  166 

broken  at  intervals,  form  a  regular  series,  connecting  with  th« 
Taurus,  in  Asia  Minor. 

On  leaving  Damascus,  the  Demon  of  Hasheesh  still  main- 
tained a  partial  control  over  me.  I  was  weak  in  body  and  at 
times  confused  in  my  perceptions,  wandering  away  from  the 
scenes  about  me  to  some  unknown  sphere  beyond  the  moon. 
But  the  healing  balm  of  my  sleep  at  Zebdeni,  and  the  purity 
of  the  morning  air  among  the  mountains,  completed  my  cure. 
As  I  rode  along  the  valley,  with  the  towering,  snow-sprinkled 
ridge  of  the  Anti-Lebanon  on  my  right,  a  cloudless  heaven 
above  my  head,  and  meads  enamelled  with  the  asphodel  and 
scarlet  anemone  stretching  before  me,  I  felt  that  the  last 
shadow  had  rolled  away  from  my  brain.  My  mind  was  now  as 
clear  as  that  sky — my  heart  as  free  and  joyful  as  the  elastic 
morning  air.  The  sun  never  shone  so  brightly  to  my  eyes  ; 
the  fair  forms  of  Nature  were  never  penetrated  with  so  perfect 
a  spirit  of  beauty.  I  was  again  master  of  myself,  and  the 
world  glowed  as  if  new-created  in  the  light  of  my  joy  and  gra- 
titude. I  thanked  God,  who  had  led  me  out  of  a  darkness 
more  terrible  than  that  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
and  while  my  feet  strayed  among  the  flowery  meadows  of  Leba- 
non, my  heart  walked  on  the  Delectable  Hills  of  His  Mercy. 

By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  we  reached  Baalbec.  The 
distant  view  of  the  temple,  on  descending  the  last  slope  of  the 
Anti-Lebanon,  is  not  calculated  to  raise  one's  expectations. 
On  the  green  plain  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  you  see  a  large 
square  platform  of  masonry,  upon  which  stand  six  columns,  the 
body  of  the  temple,  and  a  quantity  of  ruined  walls.  As  a 
feature  in  the  landscape,  it  has  a  fine  effect,  but  yon  find  your 
self  pronouncing  the  speedy  judgment,  that  "  Baalbec.  without 


166  THE     LANDS     OF     THE     SA-UCEN. 

Lebanon,  would  be  rather  a  poor  show."  Haying  come  to 
this  conclusion,  you  ride  down  the  hill  with  comfortable  feel- 
ings of  indifference.  There  are  a  number  of  quarries  on  the 
left  hand  ;  you  glance  at  them  with  an  expression  which  merely 
says  :  "Ah  !  I  suppose  they  got  the  stones  here,"  and  so  you 
saunter  on,  cross  a  little  stream  that  flows  down  from  the 
modern  village,  pass  a  mill,  return  the  stare  of  the  quaint 
Arab  miller  who  comes  to  the  door  to  see  you,  and  your  horse 
is  climbing  a  difficult  path  among  the  broken  columns  and 
friezes,  before  you  think  it  worth  while  to  lift  your  eyes  to  the 
pile  above  you.  Now  re-assert  your  judgment,  if  you  dare  ! 
This  is  Baalbec  :  what  have  you  to  say  ?  Nothing  ;  but  you 
amazedly  measure  the  torsos  of  great  columns  which  lie  piled 
across  one  another  in  magnificent  wreck  ;  vast  pieces  which 
have  dropped  from  the  entablature,  beautiful  Corinthian  capi 
tals,  bereft  of  the  last  graceful  curves  of  their  acanthus  leaves, 
and  blocks  whose  edges  are  so  worn  away  that  they  resemble 
enormous  natural  boulders  left  by  the  Deluge,  till  at  last  you 
look  up  to  the  six  glorious  pillars,  towering  nigh  a  hundred  feet 
above  your  head,  and  there  is  a  sensation  in  your  brain  which 
would  be  a  shout,  if  you  could  give  it  utterance,  of  faultless 
symmetry  and  majesty,  such  as  no  conception  of  yours  and  nc 
other  creation  of  art,  can  surpass. 

I  know  of  nothing  so  beautiful  in  all  remains  of  ancient  Art 
as  these  six  columns,  except  the  colonnade  of  the  Memuonium, 
at  Thebes,  which  is  of  much  smaller  proportions.  From  every 
position,  and  with  all  lights  of  the  day  or  night,  they  art 
equally  perfect,  and  carry  your  eyes  continually  away  from  the 
peristyle  of  the  smaller  temple,  which  is  better  preserved,  and 
from  the  exquisite  architecture  of  the  outer  courts  and  puvi 


THE  TEMPLES  OF  BAALBEC.  167 

lions.  The  two  temples  of  Baalbec  stand  on  an  artificial  plat 
form  of  masonry,  a  thousand  feet  in  length,  and  from  fifteen  to 
thirty  feet  (according  to  the  depression  of  the  soil)  in  height 
The  larger  one,  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  Pantheon, 
occupies  the  whole  length  of  this  platform.  The  entrance  wa? 
at  the  north,  by  a  grand  flight  of  steps,  now  broken  away, 
between  two  lofty  and  elegant  pavilions  which  are  still  nearly 
entire.  Then  followed  a  spacious  hexagonal  court,  and  three 
grand  halls,  parts  of  which,  with  niches  for  statues,  adorned 
with  cornices  and  pediments  of  elaborate  design,  still  remain 
entire  to  the  roof.  This  magnificent  series  of  chambers  was 
terminated  at  the  southern  extremity  of  the  platform  by  the 
main  temple,  which  had  originally  twenty  columns  on  a  side, 
similar  to  the  six  now  standing. 

The  Temple  of  the  Sun  stands  on  a  smaller  and  lower  plat- 
form, which  appears  to  have  been  subsequently  added  to  the 
greater  one.  The  cella,  or  bod^  of  the  temple,  is  complete 
except  the  roof,  and  of  the  colonnade  surrounding  it,  nearly 
one-half  of  its  pillars  are  still  standing,  upholding  the  frieze, 
entablature,  and  cornice,  which  altogether  form  probably  the 
most  ornate  specimen  of  the  Corinthian  order  of  architecture 
now  extant.  Only  four  pillars  of  the  superb  -portico  remain, 
and  the  Saracens  have  nearly  ruined  these  by  building  a  sort 
of  watch-tower  upon  the  architrave.  The  same  unscrupulous 
race  completely  shut  up  the  portal  of  the  temple  with  a  blank 
wall,  formed  of  the  fragments  they  had  hurled  down,  and  one 
is  obliged  to  creep  through  a  narrow  hole  in  order  to  reach 
the  interior.  Here  the  original  doorway  faces  you — and  I 
know  not  how  to  describe  the  wonderful  design  of  its  elaborate 
sculptured  mouldings  and  cornices.  The  genius  of  Greek  ar< 


168  THE  LANDS  OK  THE  SARACEN. 

seema  to  have  exhausted  itself  in  inventing  ornaments,  which 
while  they  should  heighten  the  gorgeous  effect  of  the  work, 
must  yet  harmonize  with  the  grand  design  of  the  temple.  The 
enormous  keystone  over  the  entrance  has  slipped  down,  no 
doubt  from  the  shock  of  an  earthquake,  and  hangs  within  six 
inches  of  the  bottom  of  the  two  blocks  which  uphold  it  on 
either  side.  When  it  falls,  the  whole  entablature  of  the  portal 
will  be  destroyed.  On  its  lower  side  is  an  eagle  with  outspread 
wings,  and  on  the  side-stoues  a  genius  with  garlands  of  flowers, 
exquisitely  sculptured  in  bas  relief.  Hidden  among  the  wreaths 
of  vines  which  adorn  the  jambs  are  the  laughing  heads  of 
fauns.  This  portal  was  a  continual  study  to  me,  every  visit 
revealing  new  refinements  of  ornament,  which  I  had  not  before 
observed.  The  interior  of  the  temple,  with  its  rich  Corinthian 
pilasters,  its-  niches  for  statues,  surmounted  by  pediments  ol 
elegant  design,  and  its  elaborate  cornice,  needs  little  aid  of  the 
imagination  to  restore  it  to  its  original  perfection.  Like  that 
of  Dendera,  in  Egypt,  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  leaves  upon  the 
mind  an  impression  of  completeness  which  makes  you  forget 
far  grander  remains. 

But  the  most  wonderful  thing  at  Baalbec  is  the  foundation 
platform  upon 'which  the  temples  stand.  Even  the  colossal 
fabrics  of  Ancient  Egypt  dwindle  before  this  superhuman 
masonry.  The  platform  itself,  1,000  feet  long,  and  averaging 
twenty  feet  in  height,  suggests  a  vast  mass  of  stones,  but  wheu 
you  come  to  examine  the  single  blocks  of  which  it  is  composed, 
yoi  are  crushed  with  their  incredible  bulk.  On  the  western 
dide  is  a  row  of  eleven  foundation  stones,  each  of  which  L§ 
thirty-two  feet  in  length,  twelve  in  height,  and  ten  in  thickness, 
forming  a  wall  three  hundred  and  fifty-two  feet  long  1  But 


TITANIC    MASONRY.  169 

while  yon  are  walking  on,  thinking  oi  the  art  wnich  cut  and 
raised  these  enormous  blocks,  you  turn  the  southern  corner  and 
come  upon  three  stones,  the  united  length  of  which  is  one  Aon- 
dred  and  eighty-seven  feet — two  of  them  being  sixty-two  and 
the  other  sixty-three  feet  in  length  !  There  they  are,  cut  with 
faultless  exactness,  and  so  smoothly  joined  to  each  other,  that 
you  cannot  force  a  cambric  needle  into  the  crevice.  There  is  one 
joint  so  perfect  that  it  can  only  be  discerned  by  the  minutest 
search  ;  it  is  not  even  so  perceptible  as  the  junction  of  two 
pieces  of  paper  which  have  been  pasted  together.  In  the  quarry, 
there  still  lies  a  finished  block,  ready  for  transportation,  which 
is  sixty-seven  feet  in  length.  The  weight  of  one  of  these  masses 
has  been  reckoned  at  near  9,000  tons,  yet  they  do  not  form  the 
base  of  the  foundation,  but  are  raised  upon  other  courses,  fifteen 
feet  from  the  ground.  It  is  considered  by  some  antiquarians 
that  they  are  of  a  date  greatly  anterior  to  that  of  the  temples, 
and  were  intended  as  the  basement  of  a  different  edifice. 

In  the  village  of  Baalbec  there  is  a  small  circular  Corinthian 
temple  of  very  elegant  design.  It  is  not  more  than  thirty  feet 
in  diameter,  and  may  have  been  intended  as  a  tomb.  A  spa- 
cious mosque,  now  roofless  and  deserted,  was  constructed  almost 
entirely  out  of  the  remains  of  the  temples.  Adjoining  the 
court-yard  and  fountain  are  five  rows  of  ancient  pillars,  forty 
(the  sacred  number)  in  all,  supporting  light  Saracenic  arches. 
Some  of  them  are  marble,  with  Corinthian  capitals,  and  eighteen 
are  single  shafts  of  red  Egyptian  granite.  Beside  the  fountain 
lies  a  small  broken  pillar  of  porphyry,  of  a  dark  violet  hue, 
and  of  so  fine  a  grain  that  the  stone  has  the  soft  rich  lustra 
of  velvet.  This  fragment  is  the  only  thing  I  would  carry  awaj 
if  I  had  the  power. 

8 


170  TH£  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

After  a  day's  sojourn,  we  left  Baalbec  at  noon,  and  took  the 
road  for  the  Cedars,  which  lie  on  the  other  side  of  Lebanon,  ir. 
the  direction  of  Tripoli.  Our  English  fellow-travellers  chose 
the  direct  road  to  Beyrout.  We  crossed  the  plain  in  three 
hours,  to  the  village  of  Dayr  el-Ahmar,  and  then  commenced 
ascending  the  lowest  slopes  of  the  great  range,  whose  topmost 
ridge,  a  dazzling  parapet  of  snow,  rose  high  above  us.  For 
several  hours,  our  path  led  up  and  down  stony  ridges,  covered 
with  thickets  of  oak  and  holly,  and  with  wild  cherry,  pear,  and 
oiive-trees.  Just  as  the  sun  threw  the  shadows  of  the  highest 
Lebanon  over  us,  we  came  upon  a  narrow,  rocky  glen  at  his 
very  base.  Streams  that  still  kept  the  color  and  the  coolness 
of  the  snow-fields  from  which  they  oozed,  foamed  over  the 
stones  into  the  chasm  at  the  bottom.  The  glen  descended 
into  a  mount^n  basin,  in  which  lay  the  lake  of  Yemouni,  ?old 
and  green  under  the  evening  shadows.  But  just  opposite  us, 
on  a  little  shelf  of  soil,  there  was  a  rude  mill,  and  a  group  of 
superb  walnut-trees,  overhanging  the  brink  of  the  largest  tor- 
rent. We  had  sent  our  baggage  before  us,  and  the  men,  with 
an  eye  to  the  picturesque  which  I  should  not  have  suspected 
in  Arabs,  had  pitched  our  tents  under  those  trees,  where  the 
stream  poured  its  snow-cold  beakers  beside  us,  and  the  tent- 
door  looked  down  on  the  plain  of  Baalbec  and  across  to  the 
Anti-Lebanon.  The  miller  and  two  or  three  peasants,  who 
were  living  in  this  lonely  spot,  were  Christians. 

The  next  morning  we  commenced  ascending  the  Lebanon 
We  had  slept  just  below  the  snow-line,  for  the  long  hollows 
with  which  the  ridge  is  cloven  were  filled  up  to  within  a  short 
distance  of  the  glen,  out  of  which  \ve  came.  The  path  was 
very  steep;  continually  ascending  now  around  the  barret 


A    QUARRHL     WITH    THE     GUIDE.  171 

shoulder  of  the  mountain,  now  up  some  ravine,  where  the  hollj 
and  olive  still  flourished,  and  the  wild  rhubarb-plant  spread  it« 
large,  succulent  leaves  over  the  soil.  We  had  taken  a  guide, 
the  day  before,  at  the  village  of  Dayr  el-Ahmar,  but  as  the 
way  was  plain  before  us,  and  he  demanded  an  exorbitant  sum, 
we  dismissed  him.  We  had  not  climbed  far,  however,  before 
he  returned,  professing  to  be  content  with  whatever  we  might 
give  him,  and  took  us  into  another  road,  the  first,  he  said, 
being  impracticable.  Up  and  up  we  toiled,  and  the  long 
hollows  of  snow  h&y  below  us,  and  the  wind  came  cold  from  the 
topmost  peaks,  which  began  to  show  near  at  band.  But  now 
the  road,  as  we  had  surmised,  turned  towards  that  we  had  first 
taken,  and  on  reaching  the  next  height  we  saw  the  latter  at  a 
short  distance  from  us.  It  was  not  only  a  better,  but  a  shorter 
road,  the  rascal  of  a  guide  having  led  us  out  of  it  in  order  to 
give  the  greater  effect  to  his  services.  In  order  to  return  to 
it,  as  was  necessary,  there  were  several  dangerous  snow-fields 
to  be  passed.  The  angle  of  their  descent  was  so  great  that  a 
single  false  step  would  have  hurled  our  animals,  baggage  and 
all,  many  hundred  feet  below.  The  snow  was  melting,  and  the 
crust  frozen  over  the  streams  below  was  so  thin  in  places  that 
the  animals  broke  through  and  sank  to  their  bellies. 

It  were  needless  to  state  the  number  and  character  of  the 
anathemas  bestowed  upon  the  guide.  The  impassive  Dervish 
raved  ;  Mustapha  stormed  :  Francois  broke  out  in  a  frightful 
eruption  of  Greek  and  Turkish  oaths,  and  the  two  travellers, 
though  not  (as  I  hope  and  believe)  profanely  inclined,  could 
not  avoid  using  a  few  terse  Saxon  expressions.  When  the 
general  indignation  had  found  vent,  the  men  went  to  work,  and 
by  taking  each  animal  separately,  succeeded,  at  imrainenl 


172  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

hazard,  in  getting  them  all  over  the  snow.  We  then  dismissed 
the  guide,  who,  far  from  being  abashed  by  the  discovery  of  his 
trickery,  had  the  impudence  to  follow  us  for  some  time,  claim- 
ing his  pay.  A  few  more  steep  pulls,  over  deep  beds  of  snow 
and  patches  of  barren  stone,  and  at  length  the  summit  ridge — 
a  sharp,  white  wall,  shining  against  the  intense  black-blue  of 
the  zenith — stood  before  us.  We  climbed  a  toilsome  zig-zag 
through  the  snow,  hurried  over  the  stones  cumbering  the  top, 
and  all  at  once  the  mountains  fell  away,  ridge  below  ridge, 
gashed  with  tremendous  chasms,  whose  bottoms  were  lost  in 
blue  vapor,  till  the  last  heights,  crowned  with  white  Maronite 
convents,  hung  above  the  sea,  whose  misty  round  bounded  the 
vision.  I  have  seen  many  grander  mountain  views,  but  few  so 
sublimely  rugged  and  broken  in  their  features.  The  sides  of 
the  ridges  dropped  off  in  all  directions  into  sheer  precipices, 
and  the  few  villages  we  could  see  were  built  like  eagles'  nests 
on  the  brinks.  In  a  little  hollow  at  our  feet  was  the  sacred 
Forest  of  Cedars,  appearing  like  a  patch  of  stunted  junipers. 
It  is  the  highest  speck  of  vegetation  on  Lebanon,  and  in  wiutet 
cannot  be  visited,  on  account  of  the  snow.  The  summit  on 
which  we  stood  was  about  nine  thousand  feet  above  the  sea, 
bat  there  were  peaks  on  each  side  at  least  a  thousand  feet 
higher. 

We  descended  by  a  very  steep  path,  over  occasional  beds  of 
snow,  and  reached  the  Cedars  in  an  hour  and  a  half.  Not 
antil  we  were  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  trees,  and  below 
their  level,  was  I  at  all  impressed  with  their  size  and  venera- 
ble aspect.  But,  once  entered  into  the  heart  of  the  littlfl 
wood,  walking  over  its  miniature  hills  and  valleys,  and  breath 
Ing  the  pure,  balsamic  exhalations  of  the  trees,  all  the  dirap 


THE  CEDARS  OF  LEBANON.  178 

poiutmeut  rising  to  my  miud  was  charmed  away  in  an  instant 
There  are  about  three  hundred  trees,  in  all,  many  of  which  aw 
of  the  last  century's  growth,  but  at  least  fifty  of  them  would 
be  considered  grand  in  any  forest.  The  patriarchs  are  five  in 
number,  an^1  are  undoubtedly  as  old  as  the  Christian  Era,  V 
not  the  Age  of  Solomon.  The  cypresses  in  the  Garden  of 
"Moutezuma,  at  Chapultepec,  are  even  older  and  grander  trees, 
but  they  are  as  entire  and  shapely  as  ever,  whereas  these  are 
gnarled  and  twisted  into  wonderful  forms  by  the  storms  of 
twenty  centuries,  and  shivered  in  some  places  by  lightning. 
The  hoary  father  of  them  all,  nine  feet  in  diameter,  stands  in 
the  centre  of  the  grove,  on  a  little  knoll,  and  spreads  his  pon- 
derous arms,  each  a  tree  in  itself,  over  she  heads  of  the  many 
generations  that  have  grown  up  below,  as  if  giving  his  last 
benediction  before  decay.  He  is  scarred  less  with  storm  and 
lightning,  than  with  the  knives  of  travellers,  and  the  marble 
crags  of  Lebanon  do  not  more  firmly  retain  their  inscriptions 
than  his  stony  trunk.  Dates  of  the  last  century  are  abundant, 
and  I  recollect  a  tablet  inscribed:  "  Souard,  1670,"  around 
which  the  newer  wood  has  grown  to  the  height  of  three  or  four 
inches.  The  seclusion  of  the  grove,  shut  in  by  peaks  of  barren 
snow,  is  complete.  Only  the  voice  of  the  nightingale,  singing 
here  by  daylight  in  the  solemn  shadows,  breaks  the  silence 
The  Maronite  monk,  who  has  charge  of  a  little  stone  chapel 
standing  in  the  midst,  moves  about  like  a  shade,  and,  not  before 
you  are  ready  to  leave,  brings  his  book  for  you  to  register  your 
name  therein.  I  was  surprised  to  find  how  few  of  the  crowd 
that  annually  overrun  Syria  reach  the  Cedars,  which,  after 
Baalbec,  are  the  finest  remains  of  artiquity  in  the  whole 
country. 


1 74  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

After  a  stay  of  three  hours,  we  rode  on  to  Eden,  whither  om 
men  had  already  gone  with  the  baggage.  Our  read  led  along 
the  brink  of  a  tremendous  gorge,  a  thousand  feet  deep,  the 
bottom  of  which  was  only  accessible  here  and  there  by  hazard* 
ous  foot-oaths.  On  either  side,  a  long  shelf  of  cultivated  land 
sloped  down  to  the  top,  and  the  mountain  streams,  after  water- 
ing a  multitude  of  orchards  and  grain-fields,  tumbled  over  the 
cliffs  in  long,  sparkling  cascades,  to  join  the  roaring  flood 
below.  This  is  the  Christian  region  of  Lebanon,  inhabited 
almost  wholly  by  Maronites,  who  still  retain  a  portion  of  their 
former  independence,  and  are  the  most  thrifty,  industrious, 
honest,_and  happy  people  in  Syria.  Their  villages  are  not  con- 
crete masses  of  picturesque  filth,  as  are  those  of  the  Moslems, 
bu\.  are  loosely  scattered  among  orchards  of  mulberry,  poplar 
and  vine,  washed  by  fresh  rills,  and  have  an  air  of  comparative 
neatness  and  comfort.  Each  has  its  two  or  three  chapels, 
with  their  little  belfries,  which  toll  the  hours  of  prayer.  Sad 
and  poetic  as  is  the  call  from  the  minaret,  it  never  touched  me 
as  when  I  heard  the  sweet  tongues  of  those  Christian  bells, 
chiming  vespers  far  and  near  on  the  sides  of  Lebanon. 

Eden  merits  its  name.  It  is  a  mountain  paradise,  inhabited 
by  people  so  kind  and  simple-hearted,  that  assuredly  no  venge- 
ful angel  will  ever  drive  them  out  with  his  flaming  sword.  It 
bangs  above  the  gorge,  which  is  here  nearly  two  thousand  ftet 
deep,  and  overlooks  a  grand  wilderness  of  mountain-piles, 
crowded  on  and  over  each  other,  from  the  sea  that  gleams 
bdow,  to  the  topmost  heights  that  keep  off  the  nuoruing  sun. 
The  houses  are  all  built  of  hewn  stone,  and  grouped  in  clusters 
under  the  shade  of  large  walnut-trees.  In  walking  among 
Lhem,  we  received  kind  greetings  everywhere,  and  every  om 


A\     AFTERNOON     IN     EDEN.  175 

who  wa,s  .H-ated  rose  and  remained  standing  as  we  passed 
The  women  are  beauthul,  with  sprightly,  intelligent  faces,  quite 
different  from  the  stupid  Mahometan  females. 

The  children  were  charming  creatures,  and  some  ol  the  giri; 
of  ten  or  twelve  years  were  lovely  as  angels.  They  came 
timidly  to  our  tent  (which  the  men  had  pitched  as  before, 
under  two  superb  trees,  beside  a  fountain),  and  offered  us  roses 
and  branches  of  fragrant  white  jasmine.  They  expected  some 
return,  of  course,  but  did  not  ask  it,  and  the  delicate  grace 
with  which  the  offering  was  made  was  beyond  all  pay.  It  was 
Sunday,  and  the  men  and  boys,  having  nothing  better  to  do,  all 
came  to  see  and  talk  with  us.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  circle 
of  gay  and  laughing  villagers,  in  which  we  sat  that  evening, 
while  the  dark  purple  shadows  gradually  filled  up  the  gorges, 
and  broad  golden  lights  poured  over  the  shoulders  of  the  hills. 
The  men  had  much  sport  in  inducing  the  smaller  boys  to  come 
up  and  salute  us.  There  was  one  whom  they  called  "the 
Consul,"  who  eluded  them  for  some  time,  but  was  finally  caught 
and  placed  in  the  ring  before  us.  "  Peace  be  with  you,  0 
Consul,"  I  said,  making  him  a  profound  inclination,  "  may  your 
days  be  propitious !  may  your  shadow  be  increased  !"  but  I 
then  saw,  from  the  vacant  expression  on  the  boy's  face,  that  he 
was  one  of  those  harmless,  witless  creatures,  whom  yet  one 
cannot  quite  call  idiots.  "He  is  an  unfortunate;  he  know? 
nothing  ;  he  has  no  protector  but  God,"  said  the  men,  crossing 
themselves  devoutly.  The  boy  took  off  his  cap,  crept  up  and 
kissed  my  hand,  as  I  gave  him  some  money,  which  he  no  sooner 
grasped,  than  he  sprang  up  like  a  startled  gazelle,  and  was  ou< 
of  sight  in  an  instant. 

In  descending  from  Eden  to  the  sea-coast,  we  were  obliged 


176  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

to  cross  the  great  gorge  of  which  I  spoke.  Further  down,  it* 
sides  are  less  steep,  and  clothed  even  to  the  very  bottom  with 
magnificent  orchards  of  mulberry,  fig,  olive,  orange,  and  pome- 
granate trees.  We  were  three  hours  in  reaching  the  opposite 
side,  although  the  breadth  across  the  top  is  not  more  than  a 
mile.  The  path  was  exceedingly  perilous  ;  we  walked  down, 
leading  our  horses,  and  once  were  obliged  to  unload  our 
mules  to  get  them  past  a  tree,  which  would  have  forced 
them  off  the  brink  of  a  chasm  several  hundred  feet  deep. 
The  view  from  the  bottom  was  wonderful.  We  were  shut 
in  by  steeps  of  foliage  and  blossoms  from  two  to  three 
thousand  feet  high,  broken  by  crags  of  white  marble,  and 
towering  almost  precipitously  to  the  very  clouds.  I  doubt  if 
Melville  saw  anything  grander  in  the  tropical  gorges  of 
Typee.  After  reaching  the  other  side,  we  had  still  a  journey 
of  eight  hours  to  the  sea,  through  a  wild  and  broken,  yet 
highly  cultivated  country. 

Beyrout  was  now  thirteen  hours  distant,  but  by  making  a 
forced  march  we  reached  it  in  a  day,  travelling  along  *he 
shore,  past  the  towns  of  Jebeil,  the  ancient  Byblus,  and 
Joonieh.  The  hills  about  Jebeil  produce  the  celebrated 
tobacco  known  in  Egypt  as  the  Jebelee,  or  "  mountain  "  tobacco, 
which  is  even  superior  to  the  Latakiyeh. 

Near  Beyrout,  the  mulberry  and  olive  are  in  the  ascendant 
The  latter  tree  bears  the  finest  fruit  in  all  the  Levant, 
and  might  drive  all  other  oils  out  of  the  market,  if 
any  one  had  enterprise  enough  to  erect  proper  manufac- 
tories. Instead  of  this  the  oil  of  the  country  is  badly 
prepared,  rancid  from  the  skins  in  which  it  is  kept,  and  thfl 
wealthy  natives  import  from  France  and  Italy  in  preference  tt 


SYRIAN'     (TLTIVAT10X.  Iff 

using  it.  In  the  bottoms  near  the  sea,  I  saw  several  fields  of 
the  taro-plant,  the  cultivation  of  which  I  had  supposed  was 
exclusively  confined  to  the  Islands  of  the  Pacific.  There 
would  be  no  end  to  the  wealth  of  Syria  were  the  country 
in  proper  hands. 


178  THE     LANDS     <>K     T11K      SAKAt'KN. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


PI  I'KS    AND    COFK  K  K. 


•  the  kind  nymph  to  tlacchus  born 


I'.y  Morpheus'  d.inghter,  she  that  seems 

Gifted  upon  her  natal  morn 

By  him  with  fire,  by  her  with  dreams — 

Nicotia,  dearer  to  the  Muse 

Than  all  the  grape's  bewildering  juice."  LOWELL. 

ly  painting  the  picture  of  an  Oriental,  the  pipe  and  the  coffee 
cup  are  indispensable  accessories.  There  is  scarce  a  Turk,  or 
Arab,  or  Persian — unless  he  be  a  Dervish  of  peculiar  sanctity — 
but  breathes  his  daily  incense  to  the  milder  Bacchus  of  the 
moderns.  The  custom  has  become  so  thoroughly  naturalized 
in  the  East,  that  we  are  apt  to  forget  its  comparatively  recent 
introduction,  and  to  wonder  that  no  mentioh  is  made  of  the 
pipe  in  the  Arabian  Nights.  The  practice  of  smoking  harmo- 
nizes so  thoroughly  with  the  character  of  Oriental  life,  that  it 
is  difficult  for  us  to  imagine  a  time  when  it  never  existed.  It 
has  become  a  part  of  that  supreme  patience,  that  wonderful 
repose,  which  forms  so  strong  a  contrast  to  the  over-active  life 
of  the  New  World — the  enjoyment  of  which  no  one  can  taste, 
to  whom  the  pipe  is  not  familiar  Howl,  ye  Reforme'rs  !  but  I 
solemnly  declare  unto  you,  that  he  who  travels  through  the 
East  without  smoking,  does  not  know  the  East. 
It  is  strange  that  our  Continent,  where  the  meaning  of  Real 


THE     PIPE.  17  fc 

is  uuknown,  should  have  given  to  the  world  this  great  agent  ol 
Rest.  There  is  nothing  more  remarkable  in  history  than  the 
colonization  of  Tobacco  over  the  whole  Earth.  Xot  three 
centuries  have  elapsed  since  knightly  Raleigh  puffed  its  furaef 
into  the  astonished  eyes  of  Spenser  and  Shakspeare  ;  and  now, 
find  me  any  corner  of  the  world,  from  Nova  Zembla  to  the 
Mountains  of  the  Moon,  where  the  use  of  the  plant  is  unknown ! 
Tarshish  (if  India  was  Tarshish)  is  less  distinguished  by  its 
"  apes,  ivory,  and  peacocks,"  than  by  its  hookahs  ;  the  valleys 
of  Luzon,  beyond  Ternate  and  Tidore,  send  us  more  cheroots 
than  spices  ;  the  Gardens  of  Shiraz  produce  more  velvety 
toombek  than  roses,  and  the  only  fountains  which  bubble  in 
Samarcand  are  those  of  the  narghilehs  :  Lebanon  is  no  longer 
"  excellent  with  the  Cedais,"  as  in  the  days  of  Solomon,  but 
most  excellent  with  its  fields  of  Jebelee  and  Latakiyeh.  On 
the  unvisited  plains  of  Central  Africa,  the  table-lands  of  Tar- 
tary,  and  in  the  valleys  of  Japan,  the  wonderful  plant  has  found 
a  home.  The  naked  negro,  "  panting  at  the  Line,"  inhales  it 
under  the  palms,  and  the  Lapp  and  Samoyed  on  the  shores  of 
the  Frozen  Sea. 

It  is  idle  for  those  who  object  to  the  use  of  Tobacco  to 
attribute  these  phenomena  wholly  to  a  perverted  taste.  The 
fact  that  the  custom  was  at  once  adopted  by  all  the  races  of 
men,  whatever  their  geographical  position  and  degree  of  civili- 
zation, proves  that  there  must  be  a  reason  for  it  in  the  physical 
constitution  of  man.  Its  effect,  when  habitually  used,  is 
slightly  narcotic  and  sedative,  not  stimulating — or  if  so,  a' 
times,  it  stimulates  only  the  imagination  and  the  social  facul 
ties  It  lulls  to  sleep  the  combative  and  destructive  propensi- 
ties, and  hence — so  far  as  a  material  agent  may  operate — i> 


180  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

exercises  a  humanizing  and  refining  influence.  A  profound 
student  of  Man,  whose  name  is  well  known  to  the  world,  once 
informed  me  that  he  saw  in  the  eagerness  with  which  savage 
tribes  adopt  the  use  of  Tobacco,  a  spontaneous  movement  of 
Nature  towards  Civilization. 

T  will  not  pursue  these  speculations  further,  for  the  narghileh 
(bubbling  softly  at  my  elbow,  as  I  write)  is  the  promoter  of 
repose  and  the  begetter  of  agreeable  reverie.  As  I  inhale  its 
cool,  fragrant  breath,  and  partly  yield  myself  to  ;he  sensation 
of  healthy  rest  which  wraps  my  limbs  as  with  a  velvet  mantle, 
I  marvel  how  the  poets  and  artists  and  scholars  of  olden  times 
nursed  those  dreams  which  the  world  calls  indolence,  but  which 
are  the  seeds  that  germinate  into  great  achievements.  How  did 
Plato  philosophize  without  the  pipe  ?  How  did  gray  Homer, 
sitting  on  the  temple-steps  in  the  Grecian  twilights,  drive 
from  his  heart  the  bitterness  of  beggary  and  blindness  ?  How 
did  Phidias  charm  the  Cerberus  of  his  animal  nature  to  sleep, 
while  his  soul  entered  the  Elysian  Fields  and  beheld  the  forms 
of  heroes  ?  For,  in  the  higher  world  of  Art,  Body  and  Soul 
are  sworn  enemies,  and  the  pipe  holds  an  opiate  more  potent 
than  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  East,  to  drug  the  former 
into  submission.  Milton  knew  this,  as  he  smoked  his  evening 
pipe  at  Chalfont,  wandering,  the  w!dle,  among  the  palms  of 
Paradise. 

But  it  is  also  our  loss,  that  Tobacco  was  unknown  to  th* 
Greeks.  They  would  else  have  given  us,  in  verse  and  in  mar- 
ble, another  divinity  in  their  glorious  PantLeon — a  god  les* 
drowsy  than  Morpheus  and  Somnus,  less  riotous  than  Bacchus, 
less  radial  t  than  Apollo,  but  with  something  of  the  spirit  of 
each  :  a  figure,  beautiful  with  youth,  every  muscle  in  perfecl 


THE    PIPE.  181 

repose,  and  the  vague  expression  of  dreams  in  his  half-closed 
eyes.  His  temple  would  have  been  built  in  a  grove  of  South 
ern  pines,  on  the  borders  of  a  land-locked  gulf,  sheltered  from 
the  surges  that  buffet  without,  where  service  would  have  been 
rendered  him  in  the  late  hours  of  the  afternoon,  or  in  the  even- 
ing twilight.  From  his  oracular  tripod  words  of  wisdom  would 
have  been  spoken,  and  the  fanes  of  Delphi  and  Dodona  would 
have  been  deserted  for  his. 

Oh,  non-smoking  friends,  who  read  these  lines  with  pain  and 
incredulity — and  you,  ladies,  who  turn  pale  at  the  thought  of  a 
pipe — let  me  tell  you  that  you  are  familiar  only  with  the  vul- 
gar form  of  tobacco,  and  have  never  passed  between  the  wind 
and  its  gentility.  The  word  conveys  no  idea  to  you  but  that 
of  "  long  nines,"  and  pig-tail,  and  cavendish.  Forget  these  for 
a  moment,  and  look  upon  this  dark-brown  cake  of  dried  leaves 
and  blossoms,  which  exhales  an  odor  of  pressed  flowers.  These 
are  the  tender  tops  of  the  Jebelee,  plucked  as  the  buds  begin  tc 
expand,  and  carefully  dried  in  the  shade.  In  order  to  be  used, 
it  is  moistened  with  rose-scented  water,  and  cut  to  the  neces- 
sary degree  of  fineness.  The  test  of  true  Jebelee  is,  that  it 
burns  with  a  slow,  hidden  fire,  like  tinder,  and  causes  no  irrita- 
tion to  the  eye  when  Held  under  it.  The  smoke,  drawn  through 
a  long  cherry-stick  pipe  and  amber  mouth-piece,  is  pure,  cool, 
and  sweet,  with  an  aromatic  flavor,  which  is  very  pleasant  in 
the  mouth.  It  excites  no  salivation,  and  leaves  behind  it  nc 
unpleasant,  stale  odor. 

The  narghileh  (still  bubbling  beside  me)  is  an  institution 
mown  only  in  the  East.  It  requires  a  peculiar  kind  ol 
tobacco,  which  grows  to  perfection  in  the  southern  province! 
•f  Persia  The  smoke,  after  posing  through  water  (rose 


18  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

fluvored,  if  you  choose),  is  inhaled  through  a  long,  dexible 
tube  directly  into  the  lungs.  It  occasions  not  the  slightest 
irritation  or  oppression,  but  in  a  few  minutes  produces  a 
delicious  sense  of  rest,  which  is  felt  even  in  the  finger-ends. 
Th  •  pure  physical  sensation  of  rest  is  one  of  strength  also,  and 
of  perfect  contentment.  Many  an  impatient  thought,  many  an 
.uury  word,  have  I  avoided  by  a  resort  to  the  pipe.  Among 
cur  aborigines  the  pipe  was  the  emblem  of  Peace,  and  J 
strongly  recommend  the  Peace  Society  to  print  their  tract* 
upon  papers  of  smoking  tobacco  (Turkish,  if  possible),  and 
distribute  pipes  with  them. 

I  know  of  nothing  more  refreshing,  after  the  fatigue  of  a  long 
day's  journey,  than  a  well-prepared  narghileh.  That  slight 
feverish  aud  excitable  feeling  which  is  the  result  of  fatigue 
yields  at  once  to  its  potency.  The  blood  loses  its  heat  and  the 
pulse  its  rapidity  ;  the  muscles  relax,  the  nerves  are  soothed 
iuto  quiet,  and  the  frame  passes  into  a  condition  similar  to 
sleep,  except  that  the  mind  is  awake  and  active.  By  the  time 
one  has  finished  his  pipe,  he  is  refreshed  for  the  remainder  of 
the  day,  and  his  nightly  sleep  is  sound  and  healthy.  Such  are 
some  of  the  physical  effects  of  the  pipe,  in  Eastern  lands. 
Morally  and  psychologically,  it  works  still  greater  transforma- 
tions ;  but  to  describe  them  now,  with  the  mouth-piece  at  my 
lips,  would  require  au  active  self- consciousness  which  the  habit 
does  not  allow. 

A  servant  enters  with  a  steamy  cup  of  coffee,  seated  in  a 
silver  zerf,  or  cup-holder.  His  thumb  aud  fore-finger  are 
clasped  firmly  upon  the  bottom  of  the  zerf,  which  1  inclose 
near  the  top  with  my  own  thumb  and  finger,  so  that  the  trans 
(Vr  is  accomplished  without  his  hand  having  touched 


COFFEE.  183 

A.fter  draining  the  thick  brcwu  liquid,  which  mtst  bt  doiu 
with  due  deliberation  and  a  pause  of  satisfaction  between  each 
sip,  I  return  the  zerf,  holding  it  in  the  middle,  while  the  atten- 
dant places  a  palm  of  each  hand  upon  the  top  and  bottom  and 
carries  it  off  without  contact.  The  beverage  is  made  of  the 
berries  of  Mocha,  slightly  roasted,  pulverized  in  a  mortar,  and 
heated  to  a  foam,  without  the  addition  of  cream  or  sugar. 
Sometimes,  however,  it  is  flavored  with  the  extract  of  roses  or 
violets.  When  skilfully  made,  each  cup  is  prepared  separately, 
and  the  quantity  of  water  and  coffee  carefully  measured. 

Coffee  is  a  true  child  of  the  East,  and  its  original  home  was 
among  the  hills  of  Yemen,  the  Arabia  Felix  of  the  ancients. 
Fortunately  for  Mussulmeu,  its  use  was  unknown  in  the  days 
of  Mahomet,  or  it  would  probably  have  fallen  under  the  same 
prohibition  as  wine.  The  word  Kahweh  (whence  cafe)  is  an 
old  Arabic  term  for  wine.  The  discovery  of  the  properties  oi 
coffee  is  attributed  to  a  dervish,  who,  for  some  misdemeanor, 
was  carried  into  the  mountains  of  Yemen  by  his  brethren  and 
there  left  to  perish  by  starvation.  In  order'  to  appease  the 
pangs  of  hunger  he  gathered  the  ripe  berries  from  the  wild 
coffee-trees,  roasted  and  ate  them.  The  nourishment  they  con- 
tained, with  water  from  the  springs,  sustained  his  life,  and  aftei 
two  or  three  months  he  returned  in  good  condition  to  his 
brethren,  who  considered  his  preservation  as  a  miracle,  and 
2ver  afterwards  looked  upon  him  as  a  pattern  of  holiness1.  He 
Caught  the  use  of  the  miraculous  fruit,  and  the  demand  for  it 
soon  became  so  great  as  to  render  the  cultivation  of  the  tree 
necessary.  Jt  was  a  long  time,  however,  before  coffee  wan 
introduced  into  Europe.  As  late  as  the  beginning  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  Sandys,  the  quaint  old  traveller,  describes 


184  THK  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

the  appearance  and  taste  of  the  beverage,  which  he  call* 
44  Coflfa,"  and  sagely  asks  :  "  Why  not  that  black  broth  which 
the  Lacedemonians  used  ?" 

On  account  of  the  excellence  of  the  material,  and  the  skilful 
manner  of  its  preparation,  the  Coffee  of  the  East  is  the  fiuest 
in  the  woild.  I  have  found  it  so  grateful  and  refreshing  a 
drink,  that  I  can  readily  pardon  the  pleasant  exaggeration  of 
the  Arabic  poet,  Abd-el  Kader  Anazari  Djezeri  Hanbali,  the 
son  of  Mahomet,  who  thus  celebrates  its  virtues.  After  such 
an  exalted  eulogy,  my  own  praises  would  sound  dull  and  tame  ; 
and  I  therefore  resume  my  pipe,  commending  Abd-el  Kader  to 
the  reader. 

14  0  Coffee  1  thou  dispellest  the  cares  of  the  great ;  thon 
bringest  back  those  who  wander  from  the  paths  of  knowledge 
Coffee  is  the  beverage  of  the  people  of  God,  and  the  cordial 
of  his  servants  who  thirst  for  wisdom.  When  coffee  is  infused 
into  the  bowl,  it  exhales  the  odor  of  musk,  and  is  of  the  color 
of  ink.  The  truth  is  not  known  except  to  the  wise,  who  drink 
it  from  the  foaming  coffee-cup.  God  has  deprived  fools  of 
coffee,  who,  with  invincible  obstinacy,  condemn  it  as  injurious. 

"  Coffee  is  our  gold  ;  and  in  the  place  of  its  libations  we  are 
in  the  enjoyment  of  the  best  and  noblest  society.  Coffee  is 
even  as  innocent  a  drink  as  the  purest  milk,  from  which  it  U 
distinguished  only  by  its  color.  Tarry  with  thy  coffee  in  the 
place  of  its  preparation,  and  the  good  God  will  hover  over 
thee  and  participate  in  his  feast.  There  the  graces  of  the 
saloon,  the  luxury  of  life,  the  society  of  friends,  ill  furnish  a 
picture  of  the  abode  of  happiness. 

"  Every  care  vanishes  when  the  cup-bearer  presents  the  deli- 
cious chalice.  It  will  circulate  fleetlj  through  iuy  veins,  and 


TES  PRAISK  OF  COFFKB  186 

• 

will  not  rankle  there  :  if  thou  doubtest  this,  contemplate  the 
youth  and  beauty  of  those  who  drink  it.  Grief  cannot  exist 
where  it  grows  ;  sorrow  humbles  itself  in  obedience  before  UP 
powers. 

"  Coffee  is  the  drink  of  God's  people  ;  in  it  is  health  Let 
this  be  the  answer  to  those  who  doubt  its  qualities.  In  it  we 
will  drown  our  adversities,  and  in  its  fire  consume  our  sorrows 
Whoever  has  <jnce  seen  the  blissful  chalice,  will  scorn  the  wine- 
cup.  Glorious  drink  I  thy  color  is  the  seal  of  purity,  and 
i*eason  proclaims  it  genuine.  Drink  with  confidence,  and  regard 
not  the  prattle  of  fools,  who  condemn  without  foundation." 


THE     LANDS     OF     THE     SARACEN 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

JOURNEY    TO     ANTIOCH     AND     ALEPPO. 

of  Plans — Routes  to  Baghdad — Asia  Minor — We  sail  from  Beyrout — YaehUnj 
u  the  Syrian  Coast — Tartus  and  Latakiyeh — The  Coasts  of  Syria — The  Biy  of  Soe- 
diah — The  Mouth  of  the  Orontes — Landing — The  Garden  of  Syria — Ride  to  Anttocb 
— The  Modern  City — The  Plains  of  the  Orontes — Remains  of  the  Greek  Empire — Th« 
Ancient  Road— The  Plain  of  Keftin — Approach  to  Aleppo. 

"  The  chain  is  loosed,  the  sails  are  spread, 

The  living  breath  is  fresh  behind, 
As,  with  dews  and  sunrise  fed, 

Comes  the  laughing  morning  wind." 

SBKLLBT. 

Aum>,  Friday,  June.  4,  1352. 

A.  TRAVELLER  in  the  East,  who  has  not  unbounded  time  and  an. 
extensive  fortune  at  his  disposal,  is  never  certain  where  and 
how  far  he  shall  go,  until  his  journey  is  finished.  With  but  a 
limited  portion  of  both  these  necessaries,  I  have  so  far  carried 
out  my  original  plan  with  scarcely  a  variation;  but  at  present  I 
am  obliged  to  make  a  material  change  of  route.  My  farthest 
East  is  here  at  Aleppo.  A  t  Damascus,  I  was  told  by  every- 
body that  it  was  too  late  in  the  season  to  visit  either  Baghdad 
or  Mosul,  and  that,  on  account  of  the  terrible  summer  heats 
and  the  fevers  which  prevail  along  the  Tigris,  it  would  be 
imprudent  to  undertake  it.  Notwithstanding  this,  I  should 
probably  have  gone  (being  now  so  thoroughly  acclimated  that 
I  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the  heut),  had  I  not  met  with  a 


ROUTES    TO     BAGHDAD.  181 

mend  of  Col.  Rawlinson,  the  companion  of  Layard,  and  the 
sharer  in  his  discoveries  at  Nineveh.  This  gentleman,  who 
met  Col.  R.  not  long  since  in  Constantinople,  on  his  way  tc 
Baghdad  (where  he  resides  as  British  Consul),  informed  me 
that  since  the  departure  of  Mr.  Layard  from  Mosul,  the  most 
interesting  excavations  have  been  filled  up,  in  order  to  preserve 
the  sculptures.  Unless  one  was  able  to  make  a  new  exhuma- 
tion, he  would  be  by  no  means  repaid  for  so  long  and  arduous 
a  journey.  The  ruins  of  Nineveh  are  all  below  the  surface 
of  the  earth,  and  the  little  of  them  that  is  now  left  exposed, 
is  less  complete  and  interesting  than  the  specimens  in  the 
British  Museum. 

There  is  a  route  from  Damascus  to  Baghdad,  across  the 
Desert,  by  way  of  Palmyra,  but  it  is  rarely  travelled,  even  by 
the  natives,  except  when  the  caravans  are  sufficiently  strong  to 
withstand  the  attacks  of  the  Bedouins.  The  traveller  is 
obliged  to  go  in  Arab  costume,  to  leave  his  baggage  behind, 
except  a  meagre  scrip  for  the  journey,  and  to  pay  from  $300  to 
$500  for  the  camels  and  escort.  The  more  usual  route  is  tc 
come  northward  to  this  city,  then  cross  to  Mosul  and  descend 
the  Tigris — a  journey  of  four  or  five  weeks.  After  weighing 
ail  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  undertaking  a  tour  of 
such  length  as  it  would  be  necessary  to  make  before  reaching 
Constantinople,  I  decided  at  Beyrout  to  give  up  the  fascinating 
^fields  of  traTel  in  Media,  Assyria  and  Armenia,  and  take  a 
rather  shorter  and  perhaps  equally  interesting  route  from 
Aleppo  to  Constantinople,  by  way  of  Tarsus,  Konia  (Iconium), 
and  the  ancient  countries  of  Phrygia,  Bithyuia,  and  Mysia 
Hie  interior  of  Asia  Minor  is  even  less  known  to  us  than  th« 
Persian  side  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  which  has  of  late  received 


188  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARA3BK. 

more  attention  from  travellers  ;  and,  as  I  shall  traverse  it  U 
its  whole  length,  from  Syria  tc  the  Bosphorus,  I  may  find  it 
replete  with  "  green  fields  and  pastures  new,"  which  shall  repay 
me  for  relinquishing  the  first  and  more  ambitious  undertaking 
At  least,  I  have  so  much  reason  to  be  grateful  for  the  uninter 
rupted  good  health  and  good  luck  I  have  enjoyed  during  seven 
months  in  Africa  and  the  Orient,  that  I  cannot  be  otherwise 
than  content  with  the  prospect  before  me. 

I  left  Beyrout  on  the  night  of  the  28th  of  May,  with  Mr 
Harrison,  who  has  decided  to  keep  me  company  as  far  as  Con- 
Btantinople.  Francois,  our  classic  dragoman,  whose  great 
delight  is  to  recite  Homer  by  the  sea-side,  is  retained  for  the 
whole  tour,  as  we  have  found  no  reason  to  doubt  his  honesty 
or  ability.  Our  first  thought  was  to  proceed  to  Aleppo  by 
land,  by  way  of  Horns  and  Hamah,  whence  there  might  be  u 
jhance  of  reaching  Palmyra  ;  but  as  we  found  an  opportunity 
of  engaging  an  American  yacht  for  the  voyage  up  the  coast, 
it  was  thought  preferable  to  take  her,  and  save  time.  She  was 
a  neat  little  craft,  called  the  "American  Eagle,"  brought  out  by 
Mr.  Smith,  our  Consul  at  Beyrout.  So,  one  fine  moonlit  night, 
we  slowly  crept  out  of  the  harbor,  and  after  returning  a  volley 
of  salutes  from  our  friends  at  Demetri's  Hotel,  ran  into  the 
heart  of  a  thunder-storm,  which  poured  down  more  rain  than 
all  I  had  seen  for  eight  months  before.  But  our  rai's,  Assad 
(the  Lion),  was  worthy  of  his  name,  and  had  two  good  Chris- 
tian sailors  at  his  command,  so  we  lay  in  the  cramped  little 
cabin,  and  heard  the  floods  washing  our  deck,  without 
fear. 

In  the  morning,  we  were  off  Tripoli,  which  is  even  mon 
deeply  bnried  than  Beyrout  in  its  orange  and  mulberry  grovea 


THE     COAST    OF     SYRIA.  185 

and  slowly  wafted  along  the  bold  mountain-coast,  in  the  after 
noon  reached  Tartus,  the  Ancient  Tortosa.  A  mile  from  short 
is  the  rocky  island  of  Aradus,  entirely  covered  by  a  town 
There  were  a  dozen  vessels  lying  in  the  harbor.  The  remain? 
of  a  large  fortress  and  ancient  mole  prove  it  to  have  been  a 
place  of  considerable  importance.  Tartus  is  a  small  old  plac' 
on  the  sea-shore — not  so  large  nor  so  important  in  aopearance 
as  its  island-port.  The  country  behind  is  green  and  hilly, 
though  but  partially  cultivated,  and  rises  into  Djebel  Ansairi- 
yeh,  which  divides  the  valley  of  the  Orontes  from  the  sea.  It 
is  a  lovely  coast,  especially  under  the  flying  lights  and  shadows 
of  such  a  breezy  day  as  we  had.  The  wind  fell  at  sunset ;  but 
by  the  next  morning,  we  had  passed  the  tobacco-fields  of  Lata- 
kiyeh,  and  were  in  sight-  of  the  southern  cape  of  the  Bay  of 
Suediah.  The  mountains  forming  this  cape  culminate  in  a  grand 
conical  peak,  about  5,000  feet  in  height,  called  Djebel  Okrab 
At  ten  o'clock,  wafted  along  by  a  slow  wind,  we  turned  the 
point  and  entered  the  Bay  of  Suediah,  formed  by  the  embou- 
chure of  the  River  Orontes.  The  mountain  headland  of  Akma 
Dagh,  forming  the  portal  of  the  Gulf  of  Scanderoon,  loomed 
grandly  in  front  of  us  across  the  bay  ;  and  far  beyond  it,  we 
could  just  distinguish  the  coast  of  Karamania,  the  snow-capped 
range  of  Taurus. 

The  Coasts  of  Syria  might  be  divided,  like  those  of  Guinea, 
according  to  the  nature  of  their  productions.  The  northern 
division  is  bold  and  bare,  yet  flocks  of  sheep  graze  on  the 
slopes  of  its  mountains  ;  and  the  inland  plains  behind  them  are 
covered  with  orchards  of  pistachio-trees.  Silk  is  cultivated  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Suediah,  but  forms  only  a  small  portion 
of  the  exports.  This  region  may  be  called  the  Wool  and  Pi» 


190  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

tachio  Coast.  Southward,  from  Latakiyeh  to  Tartas  aud  tha 
northern  limit  of  Lebanon,  extends  the  Tobacco  Coast,  whose 
undulating  hills  are  now  clothed  with  the  pale-green  leaves  of 
the  renowned  plant  From  Tripoli  to  Tyre,  embracing  all  the 
western  slope  of  Lebanon,  and  the  deep,  rich  valleys  lying 
between  his  knees,  the  mulberry  predominates,  and  the  land  is 
covered  with  the  houses  of  thatch  and  matting  which  shelter 
the  busy  worms.  This  is  the  Silk  Coast.  The  palmy  plains  of 
Jaffa,  and  beyond,  until  Syria  meets  the  African  sands  between 
Gaza  and  El-Arish,  constitute  the  Orange  Coast.  The  vine, 
the  olive,  and  the  fig  flourish  everywhere. 

We  were  all  day  getting  up  the  bay,  and  it  seemed  as  if  we 
should  never  pass  Djebel  Okrab,  whose  pointed  top  rose  high 
above  a  long  belt  of  fleecy  clouds  that  girdled  his  waist.  At 
sunset  we  made  the  mouth  of  the  Oroutes.  Our  lion  of  a 
Captain  tried  to  run  into  the  river,  but  the  channel  was  very 
narrow,  and  when  within  thres  hundred  yards  of  the  shore  the 
yacht  struck.  We  had  all  sail  set,  and  had  the  wind  been  a 
little  stronger,  we  should  have  capsized  in  an  instant.  The  lion 
went  manfully  to  work,  and  by  dint  of  hard  poling,  shoved  us 
off,  and  came  to  anchor  in  deep  water.  Not  until  the  danger 
was  past  did  he  open  his  batteries  on  the  unlucky  helmsman,  and 
then  the  explosion  of  Arabic  oaths  was  equal  to  a  broadside 
of  twenty-four  pounders.  We  lay  all  night  rocking  on  the 
swells,  and  the  next  morning,  by  firing-  a  number  of  signal  guns, 
brought  out  a  boat,  which  took  us  off.  We  entertd  the  moutb 
of  the  Orontes,  and  sailed  nearly  a  mile  between  rich  wheat 
me"adows  before  reaching  the  landing-place  of  Suediah — two  01 
three  uninhabited  stone  huts,  with  three  or  tour  small  Turkish 
and  a  health  officer.  The  town  lies  a  mile  or  two  inland 


THK    GARDEN    OF    SYRIA.  19'i 

soaiteied  along  the  bill-side  amid  gardens  so  luxar.ant  as 
almost  to  conceal  it  from  view. 

This  part  of  the  coast  is  ignorant  of  travellers,  and  we  wew 
obliged  to  wait  half  a  day  before  we  could  find  a  sufficient 
number  of  horses  to  take  us  to  Antioch,  twenty  miles  distant. 
When  they  came,  they  were  solid  farmers'  horses,  with  the 
rudest  gear  imaginable.  I  was  obliged  to  mount  astride  of  a 
broad  pack-saddle,  with  my  legs  suspended  in  coils  of  rope. 
Leaving  the  meadows,  we  entered  a  lane  of  the  wildest,  rich 
est  and  loveliest  bloom  and  foliage.  Our  way  was  overhung 
with  hedges  of  pomegranate,  myrtle,  oleander,  and  white  rose, 
in  blossom,  and  occasionally  with  quince,  fig,  and  carob  trees, 
laced  together  with  grape  vines  in  fragrant  bloom.  Sometimes 
this  wilderness  of  color  and  odor  met  above  our  heads  and 
made  a  twilight  ;  then  it  opened  into  long,  dazzling,  sun- 
bright  vistas,  where  the  hues  of  the  oleander,  pomegranate  anu 
white  rose  made  the  eye  wink  with  their  gorgeous  profusion 
The  mountains  we  crossed  were  covered  with  thickets  of  myrtle, 
mastic,  daphne,  and  arbutus,  and  all  the  valleys  and  sloping 
meads  waved  with  fig,  mulberry,  and  olive  trees.  Looking 
towards  the  sea,  the  valley  broadened  out  between  mountain 
ranges  whose  summits  were  lost  in  the  clouds.  Though  the 
soil  was  not  so  rich  as  in  Palestine,  the  general  aspect  of  the 
country  was  much  wilder  and  more  luxuriant. 

So,  by  this  glorious  lane,  over  the  myrtled  hills  and  down 
into  valleys,  whose  bed  was  one  hue  of  rose  from  the  blossom- 
ing oleanders,  we  travelled  for  five  hours,  crossing  the  low 
ranges  of  hills  through  which  the  Orontes  forces  his  way  to  the 
sea  At  last  we  reached  a  height  overlooking  the  valley  01 
the  river,  and  saw  in  the  east,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain 


192  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

chain,  the  long  lines  of  barracks  built  by  Ibrahim  Pasha  foi 
the  defence  of  Antioeh.  Behind  them  the  ancient  wall  of  the 
city  clomb  the  mountains,  whose  crest  it  followed  to  the  last 
j>eak  of  the  chain.  From  the  next  hill  we  saw  the  city — a 
large  extent  of  one-story  houses  with  tiled  roofs,  surrounded 
with  gardens,  aad  half  buried  in  the  foliage  of  sycamores.  It 
extends  from  the  River  Orontes,  which  washes  its  walls,  up  the 
slope  of  the  mountain  to  the  crags  of  gray  rock  which  over- 
hang it.  We  crossed  the  river  by  a  massive  old  bridge,  and 
entered  the  town.  Riding  along  the  rills  of  filth  which  tra- 
verse the  streets,  forming  their  central  avenues,  we  passed 
through  several  lines  of  bazaars  to  a  large  and  dreary-looking 
khan,  the  keeper  of  which  gave  us  the  best  vacant  chamber — 
a  narrow  place,  full  of  fleas. 

Antioeh  presents  not  even  a  shadow  of  its  former  splendor. 
Except  the  great  walls,  ten  to  fifteen  miles  in  circuit,  whicu 
the  Turks  have  done  their  best  to  destroy,  every  vestige  of  the 
old  city  has  disappeared.  The  houses  are  all  of  one  story,  on 
account  of  earthquakes,  from  which  Antioeh  has  suffered  more, 
than  any  other  city  in  the  world.  At  one  time,  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  it  lost  120,000  inhabitants  in  one  day.  Its  situ- 
ation -is  magnificent,  and  the  modern  town,  notwithstanding  its 
filth,  wears  a  bright  and  busy  aspect.  Situated  at  the  base  of 
a  lofty  mountain,  it  overlooks,  towards  the  cast,  a  plain  thirty 
or  forty  miles  in  length,  producing  the  most  abundant  harvests. 
A  great  number  of  the  inhabitants  are  workers  in  wood  and 
leather,  and  very  thrifty  and  cheerful  people  they  appear  to  be 

Ws  remained  until  the  next  day  at  noon,  by  which  time  a 
-bearded  scamp,  the  chief  of  the  mukkairees,  or  muleteers, 
in  getting  us  five  miserable  beaste  for  the  journey 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  ORONTES.  193 

to  A  leppo.  On  leaving  the  city,  we  travelled  along  a  former 
street  of  Antioch,  part  of  the  ancient  pavement  still  remain- 
ing, and  after  two  miles  came  to  the  old  wall  of  circuit,  which 
we  passed  by  a  massive  gateway,  of  Roman  time.  It  is  now 
called  Bab  Boulcs,  or  St.  Paul's  Gate.  Christianity,  it  will 
be  remembered,  was  planted  in  Antioch  by  Paul  and  Barna- 
bas, and  the  Apostle  Peter  was  the  first  bishop  of  the  city. 
We  now  entered  the  great  plain  of  the  Orontes — a  level  sea, 
rioting  in  the  wealth  of  its  ripening  harvests.  The  river,  lined 
with  luxuriant  thickets,  meandered  through  the  centre  of  this 
glorious  picture.  We  crossed  it  during  the  afternoon,  and 
keeping  on  our  eastward  course,  encamped  at  night  in  a  mea- 
dow near  the  tents  of  some  wandering  Turcomans,  who  fur- 
nished us  with  butter  and  milk  from  their  herds. 

Leaving  the  plain  the  next  morning,  we  travelled  due  east 
all  day,  over  long  stony  ranges  of  mountains,  inclosing  only 
one  valley,  which  bore  evidence  of  great  fertility.  It  was  cir- 
cular, about  ten  miles  in  its  greater  diameter,  and  bounded  on 
the  north  by  the  broad  peak  of  Djebel  Sarnan,  or  Mount  St. 
Simon.  In  the  morning  we  passed  a  ruined  castle,  standing  iu 
a  dry,  treeless  dell,  among  the  hot  hills  The  muleteers  called 
it  the  Maiden's  Palace,  and  said  that  it  was  built  long  ago  by 
a  powerful  Sultan,  as  a  prison  for  his  daughter.  For  several 
nours  thereafter,  our  road  was  lined  with  remains  of  buildings, 
apparently  dating  from  the  time  of  the  Greek  Empire.  There 
were  tombs,  temples  of  massive  masonry,  though  in  a  bad  style 
of  architecture,  and  long  rows  of  arched  chambers,  which 
resembled  store-houses  They  were  all  more  or  less  shattered 
by  earthquakes,  but  in  one  place  I  noticed  twenty  such  arches, 
each  of  at  least  twenty  feet  span.  All  the  hills,  ou  either 

9 


194  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

nand,  as  far  as  we  could  see,  were  covered  with  the  remains  oi 
buildings.  In  the  plain  of  St.  Simon,  I  saw  two  superb  pil- 
lars, apparently  part  of  a  portico,  or  gateway,  and  the  villag* 
of  Dana  is  formed  almost  entirely  of  churches  and  conventf, 
of  the  Lower  Empire.  There  were  but  few  inscriptions,  anj 
these  I  could  not  read  ;  but  the  whole  of  this  region  would, 
no  doubt,  richly  repay  an  antiquarian  research.  I  am  told  here 
that  the  entire  chain  of  hills,  which  extends  southward  for 
more  than  a  hundred  miles,  abounds  with  similar  remains,  and 
that,  in  many  places,  whole  cities  stand  almost  entire,  as  if 
recently  deserted  by  their  inhabitants. 

During  the  afternoon,  we  came  upon  a  portion  of  the  ancient 
road  from  Antioch  to  Aleppo,  which  is  still  as  perfect  as  when 
first  constructed.  It  crossed  a  very  stony  ridge,  and  is  much 
the  finest  specimen  of  road-making  I  ever  saw,  quite  putting 
to  suame  the  Appian  and  Flamiuian  Ways  at  Rome.  It  is 
twenty  feet  wide,  and  laid  with  blocks  of  white  marble,  from 
n\o  to  four  feet  square.  It  was  apparently  raised  upon  a  more 
ancient  road,  which  diverges  here  and  there  from  the  line, 
showing  the  deeply-cut  traces  of  the  Roman  chariot-wheels.  In 
the  barren  depths  of  the  mountains  we  found  every  hour 
cisterns  cut  in  the  rock  and  filled  with  water  left  by  the  wintei 
rains.  Many  of  them,  however,  are  fast  drying  up,  and  a 
mouth  later  this  will  be  a  desert  road. 

Towards  night  we  descended  from  the  hills  upon  the  Plain  of 
Keftin,  which  stretches  south-westward  from  Aleppo,  till  th« 
mountain-streams  which  fertilize  it  are  dried  up,  when  it  is 
ct-jrged  into  the  Syrian  Desert.  Its  northern  edge,  along 
which  we  travelled,  is  covered  with  fields  of  wheat,  cotton,  and 
castor-beans.  We  stopped  ^ll  night  at  a  village  called  Taireb 


APPROACH    TO    ALEP?0.  195 

planted  at  the  foot  of  a  tumulus,  older  than  tradition.  The 
people  were  in  great  dread  of  the  Aneyzeh  Arabs,  who  come 
in  from  the  Desert  to  destroy  their  harvests  and  carry  off  their 
cattle.  They  wanted  us  to  take  a  guard,  but  after  our  expe 
rience  on  the  Anti-Lebanon,  we  felt  safer  without  one. 

Yesterday  we  travelled  for  seven  hours  over  a  wide,  rolling 
country,  now  waste  and  barren,  but  formerly  covered  with  wealth 
and  supporting  an  abundant  population,  evidences  of  which  are 
found  in  the  buildings  everywhere  scattered  over  the  hills.  On 
and  on  we  toiled  in  the  heat,  over  this  inhospitable  wilderness, 
and  though  we  knew  Aleppo  must  be  very  near,  yet  we  could 
see  neither  sign  of  cultivation  nor  inhabitants.  Finally,  about 
three  o'clock,  the  top  of  a  line  of  shattered  wall  and  the  points 
of  some  minarets  issued  out  of  the  earth,  several  miles  in  front 
of  us,  and  on  climbing  a  glaring  chalky  ridge,  the  renowned 
city  burst  at  once  upon  our  view.  It  filled  a  wide  hollow  or 
basin  among  the  white  hills,  against  which  its  whiter  housed 
and  domes  glimmered  for  miles,  in  the  dead,  dreary  heat  of  the 
afternoon,  scarcely  relieved  by  the  narrow  belt  of  gardens  on 
the  nearer  side,  or  the  orchards  of  pistachio  trees  beyond.  In 
the  centre  of  the  city  rose  a  steep,  abrupt  mound,  crowned 
with  the  remains  of  the  ancient  citadel,  and  shining  minarets 
shot  up,  singly  or  in  clusters,  around  its  base.  The  prevailing 
hue  of  the  Ian  Iscape  was  a  whitish-gray,  and  the  long,  stately 
city  and  long,  monotonous  hills,  gleamed  with  equal  brilliancy 
under  a  sky  of  cloudless  and  intense  blue.  This  singulai 
monotony  of  coloring  gave  a  wonderful  effect  to  the  view 
which  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  in  all  the  Orient 


THE     LANDS    OF    THE     8AJUCXX. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

LIFE     IN     ALEPPO. 

tar  Entry  Into  Aleppo — We  are  conducted  to  a  House — Our  Unexpected  WelcMne— Th« 
Mystery  Explained — Aleppo — Its  Name — Its  Situation — The  Trade  of  Aleppc — The 
Christians — The  Revolt  of  1S50— Present  Appearance  of  the  City — Visit  to  Osr.-.an 
Pasha — The  Citadel — ViewYrom  the  Battlements — Society  in  Aleppo — Etiquette  and 
Costume— Jewish  Marriage  Festivities— A  Christian  Marriage  Procession— Ride 
around  the  Town— Nightingales— The  Aleppo  Button— A  Hospital  for  Gate— Ferhat 
Pasha. 

ALEPPO,  Tuesday,  Jvn«  8, 1858. 

OUR  entry  into  Aleppo  was  a  fitting  preliminary  to  our  expe- 
riences during  the  five  days  we  have  spent  here.  After  passing 
a  blackamoor,  who  acted  as  an  advanced  guard  of  the  Custom 
House,  at  a  ragged  tt-nt  outside  of  the  city,  and  bribing  him 
with  two  piastres,  we  crossed  the  narrow  line  of  gardens  on 
the  western  side,  and  entered  the  streets.  There  were  many 
coffee-houses,  filled  with  smokers,  nearly  all  of  whom  accosted 
us  in  Turkish,  though  Arabic  is  the  prevailing  language  here. 
Ignorance  made  us  discourteous,  and  we  slighted  every  attempt 
to  open  a  conversation.  Out  of  the  narrow  streets  of  the 
suburbs,  we  advanced  to  the  bazaars,  in  order  to  find  a  khan 
*here  we  could  obtain  lodgings.  All  the  best  khans,  however, 
were  filled,  and  we  were  about  to  take  a  very  inferior  room, 
jrhen  a  respectable  individual  came  up  to  Fra^ois  and  said  : 
u  The  house  is  ready  for  the  travellers,  and  J  will  show  you  the 


AN     UNEXPECTED     WELCOME.  19*1 

way.'-  We  were  a  little  surprised  at  this  address,  but  followed 
trim  to  a  neat,  quiet  and  pleasant  street  near  the  bazaars, 
where  we  were  ushered  into  a  spacious  court-yard,  with  a  row 
of  apartments  opening  upon  it,  and  told  to  make  ourselves  at 
home. 

The  place  had  evidently  been  recently  inhabited,  for  the 
tooms  were  well  furnished,  with  not  only  divans,  but  beds  iv 
the  Frank  style.  A  lean  kitten  was  scratching  at  one  of  the 
windows,  to  the  great  danger  of  overturning  a  pair  of  narghi- 
iehs,  a  tame  sea-gull  was  walking  about  the  court,  and  two 
sheep  bleated  in  a  stable  at  the  further  end.  In  the  kitchen 
we  not  only  found  a  variety  of  utensils,  but  eggs,  salt,  pepper, 
aud  other  condiments.  Our  guide  had  left,  and  the  only  infor- 
mation we  could  get,  from  a  dyeing  establishment  next  door, 
was  that  the  occupants  had  gone  into  the  country.  "  Take 
the  good  the  gods  provide  thee,"  is  my  rule  in  such  cases,  and 
as  we  were  very  hungry,  we  set  FranQois  to  work  at  preparing 
dinner.  We  arranged  a  divan  in  the  open  air,  had  a  table 
brought  out,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  bakers  in  the  bazaar,  and 
the  stores  which  the  kitchen  supplied,  soon  rejoiced  over  a  very 
palatable  meal.  The  romantic  character  of  our  reception  made 
the  dinner  a  merry  one.  It  was  a  chapter  out  of  the  Arabian 
Nights,  and  be  he  genie  or  afrite,  caliph  or  merchant  of  Bas- 
Bora,  into  whose  hands  we  had  fallen,  we  resolved  to  let  the 
adventure  take  its  course.  We  were  just  finishing  a  nonde- 
script pastry  which  FranQois  found  at  a  baker's,  and  which,  foi 
want  of  a  better  name,  he  called  meringue*  d  la  Khorassan, 
when  there  was  a  loud  knock  at  the  street  door.  We  felt  at 
first  some  little  trepidation,  but  determined  to  maintain  our 
olci  es  and  gravely  invite  the  real  master  to  join  us. 


198  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

It  was  a  female  servant,  however,  who,  to  our  great  amaze 
ment,  made  a  profound  salutation,  and  seemed  delighted  to  see 
as.  "  My  master  did  not  expect  your  Excellencies  to-day  ;  he 
has  gone  into  the  gardens,  but  will  soon  return.  Will  your 
Excellencies  take  coffee  after  your  dinner  ?"  and  coffee  was 
forthwith  served.  The  old  woman  was  unremitting  in  her 
attentions  ;  and  her  son,  a  boy  of  eight  years,  and  the  most 
venerable  child  I  ever  saw,  entertained  us  with  the  description 
of  a  horse  which  his  master  had  just  bought — a  horse  which 
had  cost  two  thousand  piastres,  and  was  ninety  years  old. 
Well,  this  Aleppo  is  an  extraordinary  place,  was  my  first 
impression,  and  the  inhabitants  are  remarkable  people  ;  but  I 
waited  the  master's  arrival,  as  the  only  means  of  solving  the 
mystery.  About  dusk,  there  was  another  rap  at  the  door.  A 
lady  dressed  in  white,  with  an  Indian  handkerchief  bound  over 
her  black  hair,  arrived.  "  Pray  excuse  us,"  said  she  ;  "  we 
thought  yon  would  not  reach  here  before  to-morrow  ;  but  my 
brother  will  come  directly."  In  fact,  the  brother  did  come 
soon  afterwards,  and  greeted  us  with  a  still  warmer  welcome. 
41  Before  leaving  the  gardens,"  he  said,  "  I  heard  of  yonr  arri- 
val, and  have  come  in  a  full  gallop  the  whole  way."  In  order 
to  put  an  end  to  this  comedy  of  errors,  I  declared  at  once 
that  he  was  mistaken  ;  nobody  in  Aleppo  could  possibly  know 
of  our  coming,  and  we  were,  perhaps,  transgressing  on  his 
hospitality.  But  no  :  he  would  not  be  convinced.  He  was  a 
dragoman  to  the  English  Consulate  ;  his  master  had  told  him 
we  would  be  here  the  next  day,  and  he  must  be  prepared  to 
receive  us.  Besides,  the  janissary  of  the  Consnlate  had  showed 
us  the  way  to  his  house.  We,  therefore,  let  the  matter  res* 
until  next  morning,  when  we  called  on  Mr.  Very,  the  Consul 


ALEPPO ITS    NAME.  191 

who  informed  us  that  the  janissary  had  mistaken  us  for  two 
gentlemen  we  had  met  in  Damascus,  the  travelling  companions 
pf  Lord  Dalkeith.  As  they  had  not  arrived,  he  begged  us  to 
remain  in  the  quarters  which  had  been  prepared  for  them. 
We  have  every  reason  to  be  glad  of  this  mistake,  as  it  has 
made  us  acquainted  with  one  of  the  most  courteous  and  hospi- 
table gentlemen  in  the  East. 

Aleppo  lies  so  far  out  of  the  usual  routes  of  travel,  that  it 
is  rarely  visited  by  Europeans.  One  is  not,  therefore,  as  in  the 
case  of  Damascus,  prepared  beforehand  by  volumes  of  descrip- 
tion, which  preclude  all  possibility  of  mistake  or  surprise.  For 
my  part,  I  only  knew  that  Aleppo  had  once  been  the  greatest 
commercial  city  of  the  Orient,  though  its  power  had  long  since 
passed  into  other  hands.  But  there  were  certain  stately  asso- 
ciations lingering  around  the  name,  which  drew  me  towards  it, 
and  obliged  me  to  include  it,  at  all  hazards,  in  my  Asiatic  tour. 
The  scanty  description  of  Captains  Irby  and  Mangles,  the  only 
one  I  had  read,  gave  me  no  distinct  idea  of  its  position  or 
appearance  ;  and  when,  the  other  day,  I  first  saw  it  looming 
grand  and  gray  among  the  gray  hills,  more  like  a  vast  natural 
crystallization  than  the  product  of  human  art,  I  revelled  in  the 
novelty  of  that  startling  first  impression. 

The  tradition  of  the  city's  name  is  curious,  and  worth 
relating.  It  is  called,  hi  Arabic,  Haleb  el-Shakbu — Aleppo, 
the  Gray — which  most  persons  suppose  to  refer  to  the  prevail 
ing  color  of  the  soil.  The  legend,  however,  goes  much  farther. 
Haleb,  which  the  Venetians  and  Genoese  softened  into  Aleppo, 
means  literally :  "  has  milked."  According  to  Arab  tradition, 
..he  patriarch  Abraham  once  lived  here  :  his  tent  being  pitched 
near  the  mound  now  occupied  by  the  citadel.  He  had  a  ccr 


200  THK  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

tain  gray  co\\  (d-shafiba*}  which  was  milked  every  morning  foi 
the  beueGt  of  the  poor.  When,  therefore,  it  was  proclaimed : 
"Ibrahim  haleb  d-skahba"  (Abraham  has  milked  the  graj 
cow),  all  the  poor  of  the  tribe  came  up  to  receive  their  share 
The  repetition  of  this  morning  call  attached  itself  to  the  spot 
and  became  the  name  of  the  city  which  was  afterwards 
founded. 

Aleppo  is  built  on  the  eastern  slope  of  a  shallow  upland 
basin,  through  which  flows  the  little  River  Koweik.  There 
are  low  hills  to  the  north  and  south,  between  which  the  coun- 
try falls  into  a  wide,  monotonous  plain,  extending  unbroken 
to  the  Euphrates.  The  city  is  from  eight  to  ten  miles  in  cir- 
cuit, and,  though  not  so  thickly  populated,  covers  a  greater 
extent  of  space  than  Damascus.  The  population  is  estimated 
at  100,000.  In  the  excellence  (not  the  elegance)  of  its  archi- 
tecture, it  surpasses  any  Oriental  city  I  have  yet  seen.  The 
houses  are  all  of  hewn  stone,  frequently  three  and  even  four 
stories  in  height,  and  built  in  a  most  massive  and  durable 
style,  on  account  of  the  frequency  of  earthquakes.  The  streets 
are  well  paved,  clean,  with  narrow  sidewalks,  and  less  tortuous 
and  intricate  than  the  bewildering  alleys  of  Damascus.  A 
large  part  of  the  town  is  occupied  with  bazaars,  attesting  the 
splendor  of  its  former  commerce.  These  establishments  are 
covered  with  lofty  vaults  of  stone,  lighted  from  the  top  ;  and 
one  may  walk  for  miles  beneath  the  spacious  roofs.  The  shopa 
exhibit  all  the  stuffs  of  the  East,  especially  of  Persia  and 
India.  There  is  also  an  extensive  display  of  European  fabrics, 
as  the  eastern  provinces  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  as  far  as  Baghdad, 
are  supplied  entirely  from  Aleppo  and  Trebiscond. 

Within  ten  years — in  fact,  since  the  Allied  Powers  drov« 


TRADE    OF    ALEPPO.  801 

Ibrahim  Pasha  out  of  Syria — the  trade  of  Aleppo  has  increased, 
at  the  expense  of  Damascus.  The  tribes  of  the  Desert,  who 
were  held  in  check  during  the  Egyptian  occupancy,  are  now 
so  unruly  that  much  of  the  commerce  between  the  latter  place 
and  Baghdad  goes  northward  to  Mosul,  and  thence  by  a  safer 
road  to  this  city.  The  khans,  of  which  there  are  a  great  num- 
ber, built  on  a  scale  according  with  the  former  magnificence  of 
A.leppo,  are  nearly  all  filled,  and  Persian,  Georgian,  and  Arme- 
nian merchants  again  make  their  appearance  in  the  bazaars. 
The  principal  manufactures  carried  on  are  the  making  of  shoes 
(which,  indeed,  is  a  prominent  branch  in  every  Turkish  city), 
and  the  weaving  of  silk  and  golden  tissues.  Two  long  bazaars 
are  entirely  occupied  with  shoe-shops,  and  there  is  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  confectionery,  embracing  more  varieties 
than  I  ever  saw,  or  imagined  possible.  I  saw  yesterday  the 
operation  of  weaving  silk  and  gold,  which  is  a  very  slow  pro- 
cess. The  warp  and  the  body  of  the  woof  were  of  purple  silk. 
The  loom  only  differed  from  the  old  hand-looms  in  general  use 
in  having  some  thirty  or  forty  contrivances  for  lifting  the 
threads  of  the  warp,  so  as  to  form,  by  variation,  certain  pat- 
terns. The  gold  threads  by  which  the  pattern  was  worked 
were  contained  in  twenty  small  shuttles,  thrust  by  hand  under 
the  different  parcels  of  the  warp,  as  they  were  raised  by  a  boy 
trained  for  that  purpose,  who  sat  on  the  top  of  the  loom.  The 
fabric  was  very  brilliant  in  its  appearance,  and  sells,  as  the 
weavers  informed  me,  at  100  piastres  per  pik — about  $7  per 
yard. 

We  had  letters  to  Mr.  Ford,  an  AmericaL  Missionary  estab- 
lished hero,  and  Signer  di  Picciotto,  who  acts  as  American 
Vice-Consul.  Roth  gentlemen  hare  been  very  cordial  in  theii 


202  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACKW. 

offers  of  service,  and  by  their  aid  we  have  been  enabled  to  see 
something  of  Aleppo  life  and  society.  Mr.  Ford,  who  has  bete 
here  four  years,  has  a  pleasant  residence  at  Jedaida,  a  Christian 
suburb  of  the  city.  His  congregation  numbers  some  fifty  or 
sixty  proselytes,  who  are  mostly  from  the  schismatic  sects  of 
the  Armenians.  Dr.  Smith,  who  established  the  mission  at 
Ain-tab  (two  days'  journey  north  of  this),  where  he  died  last 
year;  was  very  successful  among  these  sects,  and  the  congrega- 
tion there  amounts  to  nine  hundred.  The  Sultan,  a  year  ago, 
issued  a  firman,  permitting  his  Christian  subjects  to  erect 
houses  of  worship  ;  but,  although  this  was  proclaimed  in  Con- 
stantinople and  much  lauded  in  Europe  as  an  act  of  great 
generosity  and  tolerance,  there  has  been  no  official  promulga- 
tion of  it  here.  So  of  the  aid  which  the  Turkish  Government 
was  said  to  have  afforded  to  its  destitute  Christian  subjects, 
whose  houses  were  sacked  during  the  fanatical  rebellion  of  1850. 
The  world  praised  the  Sultan's  charity  and  love  of  justice, 
while  the  sufferers,  to  this  day,  lack  the  first  experience  of  it 
But  for  the  spontaneous  relief  contributed  in  Europe  anr. 
among  the  Christian  communities  of  the  Levant,  the  amount 
of  misery  would  have  been  frightful. 

To  Feridj  Pasha,  who  is  at  present  the  commander  of  the 
forces  here,  is  mainly  due  the  credit  of  having  put  down  the 
rebels  with  a  strong  hand.  There  were  but  few  troops  in  the 
•ity  at  the  time  of  the  outbreak,  and  as  the  insurgents,  who 
were  composed  of  the  Turkish  and  Arab  population,  were  iu 
league  with  the  Aueyzehs  of  the  Desert,  the  least  faltering  or 
ilelay  would  have  led  to  a  universal  massacre  of  the  Christians. 
Fortunately,  the  troops  were  divided  into  two  portions,  on« 
xcupykg  the  barracks  on  a  hill  north  of  the  city,  and  th< 


THE     WEYOLT     OF    1850.  203 

other,  a  nitre  corporal's  guard  of  a  dozen  men,  posted  in  thf 
citadel.  The  leaders  of  the  outbreak  went  to  the  latter  and 
offered  him  a  large  sum  of  money  (the  spoils  of  Christian 
houses)  tc  give  up  the  fortress.  With  a  loyalty  to  his  duty 
truly  miraculous  among  the  Turks,  he  ordered  his  men  to  fire 
upon  them,  and  they  heat  a  hasty  retreat.  The  quarter  of  the 
insurgents  lay  precisely  between  the  barracks  and  the  citadel, 
and  by  order  of  Feridj  Pasha  a  cannonade  was  immediately 
opened  on  it  from  both  points.  It  was  not,  however,  until 
many  houses  had  been  battered  down,  and  a  still  larger  number 
destroyed  by  fire,  that  the  rebels  were  brought  to  submission 
Their  allies,  the  Aneyzehs,  appeared  on  the  hill  east  of  Aleppo, 
to  the  number  of  five  or  six  thousand,  but  a  few  well-directed 
cannon-balls  told  them  what  they  might  expect,  and  they 
speedily  retreated.  Two  or  three  hundred  Christian  families 
lost  nearly  all  of  their  property  during  the  sack,  and  many 
were  left  entirely  destitute.  The  house  in  which  Mr.  Ford 
lives  was  plundered  of  jewels  and  furniture  to  the  amount  of 
400,000  piastres  ($20,000).  The  robbers,  it  is  said,  were 
amazed  at  the  amount  of  spoil  they  found.  The  Government 
made  some  feeble  efforts  to  recover  it,  but  the  greater  part 
was  already  sold  and  scattered  through  a  thousand  hands,  and 
the  unfortunate  Christians  have  only  received  about  seven  per 
cent,  of  their  loss. 

The  burnt  quarter  has  since  been  rebuilt,  and  I  noticed 
ieveral  Christians  occupying  shops  in  various  parts  01  it.  But 
to«-  iy  families,  who  fled  at  the  time,  still  remain  in  various 
parts  of  Syria,  afraid  to  return  to  their  homes.  The  Aneyzehp 
aud  other  Desert  tribes  have  latterly  become  more  daring  thaa 
ever.  Even  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  city,  th« 


204  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

inhabitants  are  so  fearful  of  them  that  all  the  grain  is  brought 
cp  to  the  very  walls  to  be  threshed.  The  buryiug-g  rounds  or 
both  sides  are  now  -turned  into  threshing-floors,  and  all  day 
long  the  Turkish  peasants  drive  their  heavy  sleds  around 
among  the  tomb-stones. 

On  the  second  day  after  our  arrival,  we  paid  a  visit  to 
Osman  Pasha,  Governor  of  the  City  and  Province  of  Aleppo. 
We  went  in  state,  accompanied  by  the  Consul,  with  two  janis- 
saries in  front,  bearing  silver  maces,  and  a  didgoman  behind 
The  serai,  or  palace,  is  a  large,  plain  wooden  building,  and  a 
group  of  soldiers  about  the  door,  with  a  shabby  carriage  in  the 
court,  were  the  only  tokens  of  its  character.  We  were  ushered 
at  once  into  the  presence  of  the  Pasha,  who  is  a  man  of  about 
seventy  years,  with  a  good-humored,  though  shrewd  face.  He 
was  quite  cordial  in  his  manners,  complimenting  us  on  our 
Turkish  costume,  and  vaunting  his  skill  in  physiognomy,  which 
at  once  revealed  to  him  that  we  belonged  to  the  hignest  class 
of  American  nobility.  In  fact,  in  the  firman  which  he  baa 
since  sent  us,  we  are  mentioned  as  "  nobles."  He  invited  us 
to  pass  a  day  or  two  with  him,  saying  that  he  should  derive 
much  benefit  from  our  superior  knowledge.  We  replied  that 
such  an  intercourse  could  only  benefit  ourselves,  as  his  greater 
experience,  and  the  distinguished  wisdom  which  had  made  his 
name  long  since  familiar  to  our  ears,  precluded  the  hope  of  our 
oeiug  of  any  service  to  him.  After  half  an  hour's  stay,  during 
which  we  were  regaled  with  jewelled  pipes,  exquisite  Mocha 
roffee,  and  sherbet  breathing  of  the  gardens  of  Giilistan,  we 
took  our  leave. 

The  Pasha  sent  an  officer  to  show  us  the  citadel.  We 
passed  around  the  moat  to  the  entrance  on  the  western  si 


THE     CITADEL.  205 

insisting  of  a  bridge  and  double  gateway.  The  fortress,  as  ] 
have  already  stated,  occupies  the  crest  of  an  elliptical  mound, 
about  one  thousand  feet  by  six  hundred,  and  two  hundred  feet 
in  height  It  is  entirely  encompassed  by  the  city  and  forms  a 
prominent  and  picturesque  feature  in  the  distant  view  thereof. 
Formerly,  it  was  thickly  inhabited,  and  at  the  time  of  the  great 
earthquake  of  1822,  there  were  three  hundred  families  living 
within  the  walls,  nearly  all  of  whom  perished.  The  outer  walls 
were  very  much  shattered  on  that  occasion,  but  the  enormous 
towers  and  the  gateway,  the  grandest  specimen  of  Saracenic 
architecture  iu  the  East,  still  remain  entire.  This  gateway,  by 
which  we  entered,  is  colossal  in  its  proportions.  The  outer 
entrance,  through  walls  ten  feet  thick,  admitted  us  into  a  lofty 
vestibule  lined  with  marble,  and  containing  many  ancient 
inscriptions  in  mosaic.  Over  the  main  portal,  which  is  adorned 
with  sculptured  lions'  heads,  there  is  a  tablet  stating  that  the 
fortress  was  built  by  El  Melek  el  Ashraf  (the  Holiest  of 
Kings),  after  which  follows  :  "  Prosperity  to  the  True  Believ- 
ers— Death  to  the  Infidels  !"  A  second  tablet  shows  that  it 
was  afterwards  repaired  by  Mohammed  ebn-Berkook,  who,  I 
believe,  was  one  of  the  Fatimite  Caliphs.  The  shekh  of  the 
citadel,  who  accompanied  us,  stated  the  age  of  the  structure 
at  nine  hundred  years,  which,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect  the 
Saracenic  chronology,  is  correct.  He  called  our  attention  to 
numbers  of  iron  arrow-heads  sticking  in  the  solid  masonry  — 
the  marks  of  ancient  sieges.  Before  leaving,  we  were  presented 
with  a  bundle  of  arrows  from  the  armory — undoubted  relic* 
of  Saracen  warfare. 

The  citadel  is  now  a  mass  of  ruins,  having  been  deserted 
lince  the  earthquake.     Grass  is  growing  on  the  ramparts,  and 


Ji06  THE    LANDS    OF    THE    SARACEN. 

the  caper  plant,  with  its  white-and-purple  blossoms,  flcunshet 
among  the  piles  of  rubbish.  Since  the  late  rebellion,  however 
a  small  military  barrack  has  been  built,  and  two  companies  of 
soldiers  are  stationed  there.  We  walked  around  the  walls, 
which  command  a  magnificent  view  of  the  city  and  the  widr 
piains  to  the  south  and  east.  It  well  deserves  to  rank  with  tbe 
panorama  of  Cairo  from  the  citadel,  and  that  of  Damascus  from 
the  Anti-Lebanon,  in  extent,  picturesque  ness  and  rich  oriental 
character.  Out  of  the  gray  ring  of  the  city,  which  incloses 
the  mound,  rise  the  great  white  domes  and  the  whiter  minarets 
of  its  numerous  mosques,  many  of  which  are  grand  and  impos- 
ing structures.  The  course  of  the  river  through  the  centre  of 
Mie  picture  is  marked  by  a  belt  of  the  greenest  verdure,  beyond 
ivliich,  to  the  west,  rises  a  chain  of  naked  red  hills,  and  still 
further,  fading  on  the  horizon,  the  blue  summit  of  Mt.  St. 
Simon,  and  the  coast  range  of  Akma  Dagh.  Eastward,  over 
vast  orchards  of  pistachio  trees,  the  barren  plain  of  the 
Euphrates  fades  away  to  a  glimmering,  hot  horizon.  Looking 
downwards  on  the  heart  of  the  city,  I  was  surprised  to  see  a 
number  of  open,  grassy  tracts,  out  of  which,  here  and  there, 
small  trees  were  growing.  But,  perceiving  what  appeared  to  be 
subterranean  entrances  at  various  points,  I  found  that  these 
tiacts  were  upon  the  roofs  of  the  houses  and  bazaars,  verifying 
;vhat  I  had  frequently  heard,  that  in  Aleppo  the  inhabitants 
visit  their  friends  in  different  parts  of  the  city,  by  passing  over 
the  roofs  of  the  houses.  Previous  to  the  earthquake  of  1822, 
these  vast  roof-plains  were  cultivated  as  gardens,  and  presented 
an  extent  of  airy  bowers  as  large,  if  not  as  magnificent,  as 
the  renowned  Hanging  Gardens  of  ancient  Babylon. 
Accompanied  by  Signer  »li  I'icciotto,  we  spent  two  or  thret 


SOCIETY     IN     ALEPPO  207 

in  visring-  the  houses  of  the  principal  Jewish  and  Chris 
tian  'amilies  in  Aleppo.  We  found,  it  is  true,  no  such  splendoi 
as  it  Damascus,  but  more  solid  and  durable  architecture,  and  a 
more  chastened  elegance  of  tasto.  The  buildings  are  all  of 
hewn  stone,  the  court-yards  paved  with  marble,  and  the  walls 
rich  *  ith  gilding  and  carved  wood.  Some  of  the  larger  dwell- 
ings ?;ave  small  but  beautiful  gardens  attached  to  them.  We 
wer',  everywhere  received  with  the  greatest  hospitality,  and 
the  risits  were  considered  as  a  favor  rather  than  an  intrusion. 
Indeed,  I  was  frequently  obliged  to  run  the  risk  of  giving 
offence,  by  declining  the  refreshments  which  were  offered  us. 
Each  round  of  visits  was  a  feat  of  strength,  and  we  were 
obliged  to  desist  from  sheer  inability  to  support  more  coffee, 
rose-water,  pipes,  and  aromatic  sweetmeats.  The  character  of 
society  in  Aleppo  is  singular  ;  its  very  life  and  essence  is  eti- 
quette. The  laws  which  govern  it  are  more  inviolable  than 
those  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  The  question  of  precedence 
among  the  different  families  is  adjusted  by  the  most  delicate 
scale,  and  rigorously  adhered  to  in  the  most  trifling  matters. 
Even  we,  humble  voyagers  as  we  are,  have  been  obliged  to 
regulate  our  conduct  according  to  it.  After  our  having  visited 
certain  families,  certain  others  would  have  been  deeply  morti- 
fied had  we  neglected  to  call  upon  them.  Formerly,  when  a 
traveller  arrived  here,  he  was  expected  to  call  upon  the  dif- 
ferent Consuls,  in  the  order  of  their  established  precedence  : 
the  Austrian  first,  English  second,  French  third,  &c.  After 
this,  he  was  obliged  to  stay  at  home  several  days,  to  give  the 
Consuls  an  opportunity  of  returning  the  visits,  which  they 
made  in  the  same  order.  There  was  a  diplomatic  importanc* 
about  all  his  movements,  and  the  least  violation  of  eti 


208  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

quette,  through  ignorance  or  neglect,  was  the  town  talk  f<M 
days. 

This  peculiarity  in  society  is  evidently  a  relic  of  the  formal 
times,  wheu  Aleppo  was  a  semi- Venetian  city,  and  the  opulent 
seat  of  Eastern  commerce.  Many  of  the  inhabitants  are 
descended  from  the  traders  of  those  times,  and  they  all  speak 
the  lingua  franca,  or  Levantine  Italian.  The  women  wear  a 
costume  partly  Turkish  and  partly  European,  combining  the 
graces  of  both  ;  it  is,  in  my  eyes,  the  most  beautiful  dress  in 
the  world.  They  wear  a  rich  scarf  of  some  dark  color  on  the 
head,  which,  on  festive  occasions,  is  almost  concealed  by  their 
jewels,  and  the  heavy  scarlet  pomegranate  blossoms  which 
adorn  their  dark  hair.  A  Turkish  vest  and  sleeves  of  embroi- 
dered silk,  open  in  front,  and  a  skirt  of  white  or  some  ligh4. 
color,  completes  the  costume.  The  Jewesses  wear  in  addition 
a  short  Turkish  caftan,  and  full  trousers  gathered  at  the  ankles. 
At  a  ball  given  by  Mr.  Very,  the  English  Consul,  which  we 
attended,  all  the  Christian  beauties  of  Aleppo  were  present. 
There  was  a  Gne  display  of  diamonds,  many  of  the  ladies  wear- 
ing several  thousand  dollars'  worth  on  their  heads.  The  pecu- 
liar etiquette  of  the  place  was  again  illustrated  on  this  occa- 
sion. The  custom  is,  that  the  music  must  be  heard  for  at  least 
one  hour  before  the  guests  come  The  hour  appointed  was 
eight,  but  when  we  went  there,  at  nine,  nobody  had  arrived. 
As  it  was  generally  supposed  that  the  ball  was  given  on  oui 
account,  several  of  the  families  had  servants  in  the  neighbor- 
hood to  watch  our  arrival  ;  and,  accordingly,  we  had  not  been 
there  five  minutes  before  the  guests  crowded  through  the  door 
in  large  numbers.  When  the  first  dance  (an  Arab  dance,  per- 
formed by  two  ladies  at  a  time)  was  proposed,  the  wives  of  thf 


JEWISH     JIAKRIAGK     KKSTIV1TIES  209 

French  and  Spanish  Consuls  were  first  led,  or  rather  dragged, 
out.  When  a  lady  is  asked  to  dance,  she  invariably  refuses 
She  is  asked  a  second  and  a  third  time  ;  and  if  the  gentleman 
does  not  solicit  most  earnestly,  and  use  some  gentle  force  ir. 
getting  her  upon  the  floor,  she  never  forgives  him. 

At  one  of  the  Jewish  houses  which  we  visited,  the  wedding 
festivities  of  one  of  the  daughters  were  being  celebrated.  We 
were  welcomed  with  great  cordiality,  and  immediately  ushered 
into  the  room  of  state,  an  elegant  apartment,  overlooking  the 
gardens  below  the  city  wall.  Half  the  room  was  occupied  by 
a  laised  platform,  with  a  divan  of  blue  silk  cushions.  Here 
the  ladies  reclined,  in  superb  dresses  of  blue,  pink,  and  gold, 
while  the  gentlemen  were  ranged  on  the  floor  below.  They  all 
rose  at  our  entrance,  and  we  were  conducted  to  seats  among 
the  ladies.  Pipes  and  perfumed  drinks  were  served,  and  the 
bridal  cake,  made  of  twenty-six  different  fruits,  was  presented 
ou  a  golden  salver.  Our  fair  neighbors,  some  of  whom  literal- 
ly blazed  with  jewels,  were  strikingly  beautiful.  Presently  the 
bride  appeared  at  the  door,  and  we  all  rose  and  remained 
standing,  as  she  advanced,  supported  on  each  side  by  the  two 
thebeeniyeh,  or  bridesmaids.  She  was  about  sixteen,  slight  and 
graceful  in  appearance,  though  not  decidedly  beautiful,  and 
was  attired  with  the  utmost  elegance.  Her  dress  was  a  pale 
blue  silk,  heavy  with  gold  embroidery;  and  over  her  long  dark 
hair,  her  neck,  bosom,  and  wrists,  played  a  thousand  rainbow 
gleams  from  the  jewels  which  covered  them.  The  Jewish  musi- 
cians, seated  at  the  bottom  of  the  hall,  struck  up  a  loud, 
rejoicing  harmony  on  their  violins,  guitars,  and  dulcimers,  and 
the  women  servants,  grouped  at  the  door,  uttered  in  chorus  thai 
,  shrill  cry,  which  accompanies  all  such  festivals  in  the  Easf 


210  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

The  bride  was  careful  to  preserve  the  decornm  expected  o 
her  by  speaking  no  word,  nor  losing  the  sad,  resigned  expres 
?ion  of  her  countenance.  She  ascended  to  the  divan,  bowed 
to  each  of  us  with  a  low,  reverential  inclination,  and  seated 
aerself  on  the  cushions.  The  music  and  dances  lasted  some 
time,  accompanied  by  the  zughareet,  or  cry  of  the  women, 
which  was  repeated  with  double  force  when  we  rose  to  take 
leave.  The  whole  company  waited  on  us  to  the  street  door, 
and  one  of  the  servants,  stationed  in  the  court,  shouted  some 
long,  sing-song  phrases  after  us  as  we  passed  out.  I  could  not 
learn  the  words,  but  was  told  that  it  was  an  invocation 
of  prosperity  upon  us,  in  return  for  the  honor  which  our  visit 
had  conferred. 

In  the  evening  I  went  to  view  a  Christian  marriage  proces- 
sion, which,  about  midnight,  conveyed  the  bride  to  the  house 
of  the  bridegroom.  The  house,  it  appeared,  was  too  small  to 
receive  all  the  friends  of  the  family,  and  I  joined  a  large  num- 
ber of  them,  who  repaired  to  the  terrace  of  the  English  Con- 
sulate, to  greet  the  procession  as  it  passed.  The  first  persona 
who  appeared  were  a  company  of  buffoons  ;  after  them  four 
janissaries,  carrying  silver  maces  ;  then  the  male  friends,  bear- 
ing colored  lanterns  and  perfumed  torches,  raised  on  gilded 
poles  ;  then  the  females,  among  whom  I  saw  some  beautiful 
Madonna  faces  in  the  torchlight ;  and  finally  the  bride  herself, 
covered  from  head  to  foot  with  a  veil  of  cloth  of  gold,  and 
urged  along  by  two  maidens  :  for  it  is  the  etiquette  of  sue! 
occasions  that  the  bride  should  resist  being  taken,  and  must  be 
forced  every  step  of  the  way,  so  that  slip  is  frequently  three 
hours  in  going  the  distance  of  a  mile.  We  watched  the  pro- 
fession a  long  time,  winding  away  through  the  streets — a  liut 


BIDE    AROUND    THE    CITY.  211 

af  torches,  and  songs,  and  incense,  and  noisy  jubilee-  -under 
the  sweet  starlit  heaven. 

The  other  evening,  Signer  di  Picciotto  mounted  us  from  his 
fine  Arabian  stud,  and  we  rode  around  the  city,  outside  of  the 
suburbs.  The  sun  was  low.  and  a  pale  yellow  lustre  touched 
the  clusters  of  minarets  that  rose  out  of  the  stately  masses  of 
buildings,  and  the  bare,  chalky  hills  to  the  north.  After  leav- 
ing the  gardens  on  the  banks  of  the  Koweik,  we  came  upon  a 
dreary  waste  of  ruins,  among  which  the  antiquarian  finds 
traces  of  the  ancient  Aleppo  of  the  Greeks,  the  Mongolian  con- 
querors of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  Saracens  who  succeeded 
them.  There  are  many  mosques  and  tombs,  which  were  once 
imposing  specimens  of  Saracenic  art ;  but  now,  split  and  shivered 
by  wars  and  earthquakes,  are  slowly  tumbling  into  utter  decay. 
On  the  south-eastern  side  of  the  city,  its  chalk  foundations 
have  been  hollowed  into  vast,  arched  caverns,  which  extend 
deep  into  the  earth.  Pillars  have  been  left  at  regular  inter- 
vals, to  support  the  masses  above,  and  their  huge,  dim  laby- 
rinths resemble  the  crypts  of  some  great  cathedral.  They  are 
now  used  as  rope-walks,  and  filled  with  cheerful  workmen. 

Our  last  excursion  was  to  a  country-house  of  Signor  di  Pic- 
ciotto, in  the  Gardens  of  Babala,  about  four  miles  from  Aleppo. 
We  set  out  in  the  afternoon  on  our  Arabians,  with  our  host's 
gon  on  a  large  white  donkey  of  the  Baghdad  breed.  Passing 
the  Turkish  cemetery,  where  we  stopped  to  view  the  tomb  of 
General  Bern,  we  loosened  rein  and  sped  away  at  full  gallop 
over  the  hot,  white  hills.  In  dashing  down  a  stony  rise,  the 
ambitious  donkey,  who  was  doing  his  best  to  keep  up  with  the 
horses,  fell,  hurling  Master  Picciotto  over  his  head.  The  boy 
was  bruised  a  little,  but  set  his  teeth  together  and  showed  uc 


212  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

sign  of  pain,  mounted  again,  and  followed  us.  The  Gardens  of 
Babala  are  a  wilderness  of  fruit-trees,  like  those  of  Damascus 
Signor  P.'s  country-house  is  buried  in  a  wild  grove  of  apricot, 
fig,  orange,  and  pomegranate-trees.  A  large  marble  tank,  in 
front  of  the  open,  arched  liwan,  supplies  it  with  water.  We 
mounted  to  the  flat  roof,  and  watched  the  sunset  fade  from  the 
beautiful  landscape.  Beyond  the  bowers  of  dazzling  greenness 
which  surrounded  us,  stretched  the  wide,  gray  hills  ;  the  mina- 
rets of  Aleppo,  and  the  walls  of  its  castled  mount  shone  rosily 
in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  ;  an  old  palace  of  the  Pashas,  with 
the  long,  low  barracks  of  the  soldiery,  crowned  the  top  of  a 
hill  to  the  north  ;  dark,  spiry  cypresses  betrayed  the  place  of 
tombs  ;  and,  to  the  west,  beyond  the  bare  red  peak  of  Mount 
St.  Simon,  rose  the  faint  blue  outline  of  Giaour  Dagh,  whose 
mural  chain  divides  Syria  from  the  plains  of  Cilicia.  As  the 
twilight  deepened  over  the  scene,  there  came  a  long,  melodious 
cry  of  passion  and  of  sorrow  from  the  heart  of  a  starry-flowered 
pomegranate  tree  in  the  garden.  Other  voices  answered  it 
from  the  gardens  around,  until  not  one,  but  fifty  nightingales 
charmed  the  repose  of  the  hour.  They  vied  with  each  other  in 
their  bursts  of  passionate  music.  Each  strain  soared  over  the 
last,  or  united  with  others,  near  and  far,  in  a  chorus  of  the 
divinest  pathos — an  expression  of  sweet,  unutterable,  unquench- 
able longing.  It  was  an  ecstasy,  yet  a  pain,  to  listen. 
"Away  !"  said  Jean  Paul  to  Music  :  "  thou  tellest  me  of  that 
which  I  have  not,  and  never  can  have — which  I  forever  seek, 
and  never  find  1" 

But  space  fails  me  to  describe  half  the  incidents  of  our  stay 
m  Aleppo.  There  are  two  things  peculiar  to  the  city,  how 
ever,  which  I  must  not  omit  mentioning.  One  is  the  Aleppc 


THE    ALEPPO     BUTTON—  OATS.  213 

Button,  a  singular  ulcer,  which  attacks  every  person  bum  in 
the  city,  and  every  stranger  who  spends  more  than  a  month 
there.  It  can  neither  be  prevented  nor  cured,  and  always  laste 
for  a  year.  The  inhabitants  almost  invariably  have  it  on  the 
face — either  on  the  cheek,  forehead,  or  tip  of  the  nose — where 
it  often  leaves  an  indelible  and  disfiguring  scar.  Strangers,  on 
the  contrary,  have  it  on  one  of  the  joints,  either  the  elbow, 
wrist,  knee,  or  ankle.  So  strictly  is  its  visitation  confined  to 
the  city  proper,  that  in  none  of  the  neighboring  villages,  nor 
even  in  a  distant  suburb,  is  it  known.  Physicians  have  vainly 
attempted  to  prevent  it  by  inoculation,  and  are  at  a  loss  to 
what  cause  to  ascribe  it.  We  are  liable  to  have  it,  even  aftei 
five  days'  stay  ;  but  I  hope  it  will  postpone  its  appearance 
until  after  I  reach  home. 

The  other  remarkable  thing  here  is  the  Hospital  for  Cats. 
This  was  founded  long  ago  by  a  rich,  cat-loving  Mussulman, 
and  is  one  of  the  best  endowed  institutions  in  the  city.  An 
old  mosque  is  appropriated  to  the  purpose,  under  the  charge 
of  several  directors  ;  and  here  sick  cats  are  nursed,  homeless 
cats  find  shelter,  and  decrepit  cats  gratefully  purr  away  their 
declining  years.  The  whole  category  embraces  several  hundreds, 
and  it  is  quite  a  sight  to  behold  the  court,  the  corridors,  and 
terraces  of  the  mosque  swarming  with  them.  Here,  one  with 
a  bruised  limb  is  receiving  a  cataplasm  ;  there,  a  cataleptic 
patient  is  tenderly  cared  for  ;  and  so  on,  through  the  long  con- 
catenation of  feline  diseases.  Aleppo,  moreover,  rejoices  in  a 
greater  number  of  cats  than  even  Jerusalem.  At  a  rough 
guess,  I  should  thus  state  the  population  of  the  city  :  Turks 
and  Arabs,  70,000;  Christians  of  all  denominations,  15,000; 
Jews,  10,000;  dogs,  12,000  ;  and  cats,  8,000. 


914  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACKK. 

Among  other  persons  whom  I  have  met  here,  13  Ferbal 
Pasha,  formerly  General  Stein,  Hungarian  Minister  of  War 
and  Governor  of  Transylvania.  He  accepted  Mosleinism  with 
Bern  and  others,  and  now  rejoices  in  his  circumcision  and  7,000 
piastres  a  month.  He  is  a  fat,  companionable  sort  of  man. 
who,  by  his  own  confession,  never  labored  very  zealously  for  the 
independence  of  Hungary,  being  an  Austrian  by  birth.  He 
conversed  with  me  for  several  hours  on  the  scenes  in  which  he 
had  participated,  and  attributed  the  failure  of  the  Hungarians 
to  the  want  of  material  means.  General  Bern,  who  died  here, 
is  spoken  of  with  the  utmost  respect,  both  by  Turks  and  Chris- 
tians. The  former  have  honored  him  with  a  large  tomb,  or 
mausoleum,  covered  with  a  dome. 

Bat  I  must  close,  leaving  half  unsaid.  Suffice  it  to  say 
that  no  Oriental  city  has  interested  me  so  profoundly  as  Aleppo, 
and  in  none  have  I  received  such  universal  and  cordi-il  hospi- 
tality. We  leave  to-morrow  for  Asia  Minor,  having  e; 
men  and  horses  for  the  whole  route  to  Constantinople 


AM     INAUSPICIOUS    DEPARTURE.  215 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THROUGH    THE     SYRIAN    GATES. 

in  Inauspicious  Departure — The  Ruined  Church  of  St.  Simon — The  Plain  of  AnUoch-  t 
Turcoman  Encampment — Climbing  Akma  Dagh— The  Syrian  Gates — Scanderoon — An 
American  Captain— Revolt  of  the  Koords— We  take  a  Guard— The  Field  of  Isius— 
The  Robber-Chief,  Kutchuk  Ali— A  Deserted  Town— A  Land  of  Garden*. 

"  Mountains,  on  whose  barren  breast 
The  lab'ring  clouds  do  often  rest." 

MU.TOS. 

Is  QUARANTINE  (Aelana,  Asia  Minor),  Tuesday,  June  15, 18GB. 

WE  left  Aleppo  on  the  inoruing  of  the  9th,  under  circumstances 
not  the  most  promising  for  the  harmony  of  our  journey.  We 
had  engaged  horses  and  baggage-mules  from  the  capidji,  or 
chief  of  the  muleteers,  and  in  order  to  be  certain  ot  having 
animals  that  would  not  break  down  on  the  way,  made  a  par 
ticular  selection  from  a  number  that  were  brought  us.  When 
about  leaving  the  city,  however,  we  discovered  that  one  of  the 
horses  had  been  changed.  Signer  di  Picciotto,  who  accompa 
uied  us  past  the  Custom-House  barriers,  immediately  dispatched 
the  delinquent  muleteer  to  bring  back  the  true  horse,  and  the 
latter  made  a  farce  of  trying  to  find  him,  leading  the  Consul 
and  the  capidji  (who,  I  believe,  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
iheat)  a  wild-goose  chase  over  the  hills  around  Aleppo,  where 
of  coarse,  the  animal  was  not  to  be  seen.  When,  at  length 


216  THE     LANDS     OF     THE     SARACEN'. 

we  had  waited  three  hours,  and  had  wandered  about  four  railed 
from  the  city,  we  gave  up  the  search,  took  lea  7e  of  the  Consul 
and  weiit  on  with  the  new  horse.  Our  proper  plan  would  have 
been  to  pitch  the  tent  and  refuse  to  move  till  the  matter  was 
settled.  The  animal,  as  we  discovered  during  the  first  day's 
journey,  was  hopelessly  lame,  and  we  only  added  tc  the  diffi- 
culty by  taking  him. 

We  rode  westward  all  day  over  barren  and  stony  hills, 
meeting  with  abundant  traces  of  the  power  and  prosperity  of 
this  region  during  the  times  of  the  Greek  Emperors.  The 
nevastation  wrought  by  earthquakes  has  been  terrible  ;  there 
is  scarcely  a  wall  or  arch  standing,  which  does  not  bear  marks 
of  having  been  violently  shaken.  The  walls  inclosing  the  fig- 
orchards  near  the  villages  contain  many  stones  with  Greek 
inscriptions,  and  fragments  of  cornices.  We  encamped  the 
first  night  on  the  plain  at  the  foot  of  Mount  St.  Simon,  and 
not  far  from  the  ruins  of  the  celebrated  Church  of  the  same 
name.  The  building  stands  in  a  stony  wilderness  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountain.  It  is  about  a  hundred  feet  long  and  thirty 
in  height,  with  two  lofty  square  towers  in  front.  The  pave- 
ment of  the  interior  is  entirely  concealed  by  the  masses  of 
pillars,  capitals,  and  hewn  blocks  that  lie  heaped  upon  it.  The 
windows,  which  are  of  the  tall,  narrow,  arched  form,  common 
in  Byzantine  Churches,  have  a  common  moulding  which  falls 
like  a  mantle  over  and  between  them.  The  general  effect  of 
the  Church  is  very  fine,  though  there  is  much  inelegance  in  the 
sculptured  details.  At  the  extremity  is  a  half-dome  of  massive 
gtone,  over  the  place  of  the  altar,  and  just  in  front  of  this  for- 
merly stood  the  pedestal  whereon,  according  to  tradition, 
8t.  Simeon  Stylites  comme  «ed  his  pillar-life.  I  found  a  recent 


THE     PLAIN     OF     ANTIOCH.  211 

excavation  at  the  spot,  but  no  pedestal,  which  has  probably 
been  carried  off  by  the  Greek  monks.  Beside  the  Church 
stands  a  large  building,  with  an  upper  and  lower  balcony,  sup- 
ported by  square  stone  pillars,  around  three  sides.  There  is 
also  a  paved  court-yard,  a  large  cistern  cut  in  the  rock  and 
numerous  out-buildings,  all  going  to  confirm  the  supposition  of 
its  having  been  a  monastery.  The  main  building  is  three 
stories  high,  with  pointed  gables,  and  bears  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  an  American  summer  hotel,  with  verandas.  Several 
ancient  fig  and  walnut  trees  are  growing  among  the  ruins,  and 
add  to  their  picturesque  appearance. 

The  next  day  we  crossed  a  broad  chain  of  hills  to  the  Plain 
of  Antioch,  which  we  reached  near  its  northern  extremity.  In 
one  of  the  valleys  through  which  the  road  lay,  we  saw  a  num- 
ber of  hot  sulphur  springs,  some  of  them  of  a  considerable 
volume  of  water.  Not  far  from  them  was  a  beautiful  fountain 
of  fresh  and  cold  water  gushing  from  the  foot  of  a  high  rock. 
Soon  after  reaching  the  plain,  we  crossed  the  stream  of  Kara 
Su,  which  feeds  the  Lake  of  Antioch.  This  part  of  the  plain 
is  low  and  swampy,  and  the  streams  are  literally  alive  with  fish. 
While  passing  over  the  bridge  I  saw  many  hundreds,  from  one 
to  two  feet  in  length.  We  wandered  through  the  marshy 
meadows  for  two  or  three  hours,  and  towards  sunset  reached  a 
Turcoman  encampment,  where  the  ground  was  dry  enough  to 
pitch  our  tents.  The  rude  tribe  received  us  hospitably,  anr1 
s«nt  us  milk  and  cheese  in  abundance.  I  visited  the  tent  of  tht 
Shokbj  who  was  very  courteous,  but  as  he-  know  no  language 
bat  Turkish,  our  conversation  was  restricted  to  signs.  The 
tent  was  of  camel's-hair  cloth,  spacious,  and  open  at  the  sides. 
A.  rug  was  spread  for  me,  and  the  Shekh's  wife  brought  me  e 


818  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

pipe  of  tolerable  tobacco.  The  household  were  seated  upon 
the  ground,  chatting  pleasantly  with  one  another,  and  appa 
rently  not  in  the  least  disturbed  by  my  presence.  One  of  th« 
Shekh's  sons,  who  was  deaf  and  dumb,  came  and  sat  before  me, 
and  described  by  very  expressive  signs  the  character  of  the 
road  to  Scanderoon.  He  gave  me  to  understand  that  there 
were  robbers  in  the  mountains,  with  many  grim  gestures 
descriptive  of  stabbing  and  firing  muskets. 

The  mosquitoes  were  so  thick  during  the  night  that  we  were 
obliged  to  fill  the  tent  with  smoke  in  order  to  sleep.  When 
morning  came,  we  fancied  there  would  be  a  relief  for  us,  but 
it  only  brought  a  worse  pest,  in  the  shape  of  swarms  of  black 
gnats,  similar  to  those  which  so  tormented  me  in  Nubia.  I 
know  of  no  infliction  so  terrible  as  these  gnats,  which  you  can- 
not drive  away,  and  which  assail  ears,  eyes,  and  nostrils  in 
such  quantities  that  you  become  mad  and  desperate  in  your 
efforts  to  eject  them.  Through  glens  filled  with  oleander,  we 
ascended  the  first  slopes  of  Akma  Dagh,  the  mountain  range 
which  divides  the  Gulf  of  Scanderoon  from  the  Plain  of 
Antioch.  Then,  passing  a  natural  terrace,  covered  with 
groves  of  oak,  our  road  took  the  mountain  side,  climbing 
upwards  in  the  shadow  of  pine  and  wild  olive  trees,  and  between 
banks  of  blooming  lavender  and  myrtle.  We  saw  two  or 
three  companies  of  armed  guards,  stationed  by  the  road-side, 
for  the  mountain  is  infested  with  robbers,  and  a  caravan  had 
been  plundered  only  three  days  before.  The  view,  looking 
backward,  took  in  the  whole  plain,  with  the  Lake  of  Antioeh 
glittering  in  the  centre,  the  valley  of  the  Orontes  in  the  south, 
and  the  lofty  cone  of  Djebel  Okrab  far  to  the  west.  Ai 
we  approached  the  summit,  violent  gusts  of  wind  blew  through 


THE    SYRIAN    GATES.  219 

the  pass  vvuh  buch  force  as  almost  to  overturn  our  lurses 
Here  the  road  from  Aiitioch  joins  that  from  Aleppo,  and  botc 
for  some  distance  retain  the  ancient  pavement. 

From  the  western  side  we  saw  the  sea  once  more,  and  went 
down  through  the  Pyla  Syria,  or  Syrian  Gates,  as  this  deSle 
was  called  by  the  Romans.  It  is  very  narrow  and  rugged, 
with  an  abrupt  descent.  In  an  hour  from  the  summit  we 
came  upon  an  aqueduct  of  a  triple  row  of  arches,  crossing  the 
gorge.  It  is  still  used  to  carry  water  to  the  town  of  Beilan, 
which  hangs  over  the  mouth  of  the  pass,  half  a  mile  below. 
This  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  spots  in  Syria.  The  houses 
cling  to  the  sides  and  cluster  on  the  summits  of  precipitous 
crags,  and  every  shelf  of  soil,  every  crevice  where  a  tree 
can  thrust  its  roots,  upholds  a  mass  of  brilliant  vegetation. 
Water  is  the  life  of  the  place.  It  gushes  into  the  street  from 
exhaustless  fountains  ;  it  trickles  from  the  terraces  in  showers 
of  misty  drops  ;  it  tumbles  into  the  gorge  in  sparkling  streams  ; 
and  everywhere  it  nourishes  a  life  as  bright  and  beautiful 
as  its  own.  The  fruit  trees  are  of  enormous  size,  and  the 
crags  are  curtained  with  a  magnificent  drapery  of  vines.  This 
green  gateway  opens  suddenly  upon  another,  cut  through 
a  glittering  mass  of  micaceous  rock,  whence  one  looks  down  on 
the  town  and  Gulf  of  Scanderoon,  the  coast  of  Karamania 
beyond,  and  the  distant  snows  of  the  Taurus.  We  descended 
through  groves  of  pine  and  oak,  and  in  three  hours  more 
reached  the  shore. 

Scanderoon  is  the  most  unhealthy  place  on  the  Syrian  Coast, 
owing  to  the  malaria  from  a  marsh  behind  it.  The  inhabitants 
are  a  wretched  pallid  set,  who  are  visited  every  year  with 
devastating  fevers.  The  marsh  was  partly  drained  some  forty 


220  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

years  ago  by  the  Turkish  government,  and  a  few  thousand 
dollars  would  be  sufficient  to  remove  it  entirely,  and  make  the 
place — which  is  of  some  importance  as  the  seaport  of  Aleppo — 
healthy  and  habitable.  At  present,  there  are  not  five  hundred 
inhabitants,  and  half  of  these  consist  of  the  Turkish  garrisoi 
and  the  persons  attached  to  the  different  Vice-Consulatea 
The  streets  are  depositories  of  filth,  and  pools  of  stagnant 
crater,  on  all  sides,  exhale  the  most  fetid  odors.  Near  the 
town  are  the  ruins  of  a  castle  built  by  Godfrey  of  Bouillon. 
We  marched  directly  down  to  the  sea-shore,  and  pitched  our 
tent  close  beside  the  waves,  as  the  place  most  free  from  mala- 
ria. There  were  a  dozen  vessels  at  anchor  in  the  road,  and 
one  of  them  proved  to  be  the  American  bark  Columbia  Capt 
Taylor.  We  took  a  skiff  and  went  on  board,  where  we  were 
cordially  welcomed  by  the  mate.  In  the  evening,  the  captain 
came  to  our  tent,  quite  surprised  to  find  two  wandering  Ameri- 
cans in  such  a  lonely  corner  of  the  world.  Soon  afterwards, 
with  true  seaman-like  generosity,  he  returned,  bringing  a  jar 
of  fine  Spanish  olives  and  a  large  bottle  of  pickles,  which  he 
insisted  on  adding  to  our  supplies.  The  olives  have  the 
choicest  Andalusian  flavor,  and  the  pickles  lose  none  of  their 
relish  from  having  been  put  up  in  New  York. 

The  road  from  Scanderoon  to  this  place  lies  mostly  along 
the  shore  of  the  gulf,  at  the  foot  of  Akma  Dagh,  and  is 
reckoned  dangerous  on  account  of  the  marauding  bands  of 
Koords  who  infest  the  mountains.  These  people,  like  the 
Druses,  have  rebelled  against  the  conscription,  and  will  proba- 
bly hold  their  ground  with  equal  success,  though  the  Turks 
talk  loudly  of  invading  their  strongholds.  Two  weeks  ago, 
the  post  was  robbed,  about  ten  miles  from  Scanderoon,  and  a 


WE    TAKE     A     GUARD.  221 

government  vessel,  now  lying  at  anchor  in  the  buy,  opened  a 
cannonade  on  the  plunderers,  before  they  could  be  secured 
In  consequence  of  the  warnings  of  danger  in  everybody;a 
mouth,  we  decided  to  take  an  escort,  and  therefore  waited 
upon  the  commander  of  the  forces,  with  the  firman  of  the 
Pasha  of  Aleppo.  A  convoy  of  two  soldiers  was  at  once 
promised  us ;  and  at  sunrise,  next  morning,  they  took  the  lead 
of  our  caravan. 

In  order  to  appear  more  formidable,  in  case  we  should  meet 
with  robbers,  we  put  on  our  Frank  pantaloons,  which  had  no 
other  effect  than  to  make  the  heat  more  intolerable.  But  we 
formed  rather  a  fierce  cavalcade,  six  armed  men  in  all.  Our 
road  followed  the  shore  of  the  bay,  having  a  narrow,  uninha- 
bited flat,  covered  with  thickets  of  myrtle  and  mastic,  between 
as  and  the  mountains.  The  two  soldiers,  more  valiant  than 
the  guard  of  Banias,  rode  in  advance,  and  showed  no  signs  of 
fear  as  we  approached  the  suspicious  places.  The  morning 
was  delightfully  clear,  and  the  snow-crowned  range  of  Taurus 
shone  through  the  soft  vapors  hanging  over  the  gulf.  In  one 
place,  we  skirted  the  Ashore  for  some  distance,  under  a  bank 
twenty  fett  in  height,  and  so  completely  mantled  with  shrub- 
bery, that  a  small  army  might  have  hidden  in  it.  There  were 
gulleys  at  intervals,  opening  suddenly  on  our  path,  and  we 
looked  up  them,  expecting  every  moment  to  see  the  gleam  of  a 
Koordish  gun-barrel,  or  a  TurcoinaL  spear,  above  the  tops  oi 
the  myrtles. 

Crossing  a  promontory  which  makes  out  from  the  rnoua 
tains,  we  came  upon  the  renowned  plaiu  of  Issos,  where  Dariug 
lost  his  kingdom  to  Alexander.  On  a  low  cliff  overhanging 
the  sea,  there  are  the  remains  of  a  single  tower  of  gray  stone 


222  THE    LANDS    01     THE    SARACEN. 

the  people  in  Scanderoon  call  it  "  Jonah's  Pillar,"  and  ^ 
that  it  marks  the  spot  where  the  Ninevite  was  cast  ashore  bj 
the  whale.  [This  makes  three  places  on  the  Syrian  coast 
where  Jonah  was  vomited  forth.]  The  plain  of  Issus  is  from 
two  to  three  miles  long,  but  not  more  than  half  a  mile  wide. 
It  is  traversed  by  a  little  river,  supposed  to  be  the  Pinarns, 
which  comes  down  through  a  tremendous  cleft  in  the  Akma 
Dagh.  The  ground  seems  too  small  for  the  battle-field  of  such 
armies  as  were  engaged  on  the  occasion.  It  is  bounded  on  the 
north  by  a  low  hill,  separating  it  from  the  plain  of  Baias,  and 
it  is  possible  that  Alexander  may  have  made  choice  of  this 
position,  leaving  the  unwieldy  forces  of  Darius  to  attack  him 
from  the  plain.  His  advantage  would  be  greater,  on  account 
of  the  long,  narrow  form  of  the  ground,  which  would  prevent 
him  from  being  engaged  with  more  than  a  small  portion  of  the 
Persian  army,  at  one  time.  The  plain  is  now  roseate  with 
blooming  oleanders,  but  almost  entirely  uncultivated.  About 
midway  there  are  the  remains  of  an  ancient  quay  jutting  into 
the  sea. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  field  of  Issus,  we  reached  the  town 
of  Ba'ias,  which  is  pleasantly  situated  on  the  shore,  at  the 
mouth  of  a  river  whose  course  through  the  plain  is  marked 
with  rows  of  tall  poplar  trees.  The  walls  of  the  town,  and  the 
white  dome  and  minaret  of  its  mosque,  rose  dazzlingly  against 
the  dark  blue  of  the  sea,  and  the  purple  stretch  of  the  moun- 
tains of  Karamania.  A  single  palm  lifted  its  crest  in  the  fore- 
ground We  dismounted  for  breakfast  under  the  shade  of  an 
old  bridge  which  crosses  the  river.  It  was  a  charming  spot, 
the  banks  abore  and  below  being  overhung  with  oleander 
white  rose  honeysuckle  and  clematis.  The  two  gnardsmei 


THE    ROBBEK    CH1R7.  223 

nuished  the  remaining  half  of  our  Turcoman  cheest,  and  almost 
exhausted  our  supply  of  bread.  I  gave  one  of  them  a  cigar, 
which  he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  smoke,  until  our  muleteer 
showed  him. 

Ba'ias  was  celebrated  fifty  years  ago,  as  the  residence  of  the 
robber  chief,  Kutchuk  Ali,  who,  for  a  long  time,  braved  the 
authority  of  the  Porte  itself.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  levying 
a  yearly  tribute  on  the  caravan  to  Mecca,  and  the  better  to 
enforce  his  claims,  often  suspended  two  or  three  of  his  cap- 
tives at  the  gates  of  the  town,  a  day  or  two  before  the  caravan 
arrived.  Several  expeditions  were  sent  against  him,  but  he 
always  succeeded  in  bribing  the  commanders,  who,  on  their 
return  to  Constantinople,  made  such  representations  that 
Kutchuk  Ali,  instead  of  being  punished,  received  one  dignity 
after  another,  until  finally  he  attained  the  rank  of  a  Pasha  of 
two  tails.  This  emboldened  him  to  commit  enormities  too 
great  to  be  overlooked,  and  in  1812  Bams  was  taken,  and  the 
atrocious  nest  of  land-pirates  broken  up. 

I  knew  that  the  town  had  been  sacked  on  this  occasion,  but 
was  not  prepared  to  find  such  a  complete  picture  of  desolation. 
The  place  is  surrounded  with  a  substantial  wall,  with  two  gate- 
ways, on  the  north  and  south.  A  bazaar,  covered  with  a  lofty 
vaulted  roof  of  stone,  runs  directly  through  from  gate  to  gate ; 
and  there  was  still  a  smell  of  spices  in  the  air,  on  entering. 
The  massive  shops  on  either  hand,  with  their  open  doors, 
invited  possession,  and  might  readily  be  made  habitable  again. 
The  great  iron  gates  leading  from  the  bazaar  into  the  khans 
and  courts,  still  swing  on  their  rusty  hinges.  We  rode  into 
the  court  of  the  mosque,  which  is  surrounded  with  a  light  and 
elegant  corridor,  supported  by  pillars.  The  grass  has  as  yet 


224  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SA&ACKK. 

bat  partially  invaded  the  marble  pavement,  aud  a  stone  drink 
ing-trough  still  stands  in  the  centre.  I  urged  my  horse  up  the 
steps  and  into  the  door  of  the  mosque.  It  is  in  the  form  of 
a  Greek  cross,  with  a  dome  in  the  centre,  resting  on  four  verj 
elegant  pointed  arches.  There  is  an  elaborately  gilded  and 
painted  gallery  of  wood  over  the  entrance,  aud  the  pulpit 
opposite  is  as  well  preserved  as  if  the  mollah  had  just  left  it 
Out  of  the  mosque  we  passed  into  a  second  court,  aud  then 
over  &  narrow  bridge  into  the  fortress.  The  moat  is  perfect, 
and  the  walls  as  complete  as  if  just  erected.  Only  the  bottom 
is  dry,  and  now  covered  with  a  thicket  of  wild  pomegranate 
trees.  The  heavy  iron  doors  of  the  fortress  swung  half  open, 
as  we  entered  unchallenged.  The  interior  is  almost  entire, 
and  some  of  the  cannon  still  lie  buried  in  the  springing  grass. 
The  plan  of  the  little  town,  which  appears  to  have  been  all 
built  at  one  tune,  is  most  admirable.  The  walls  of  circuit, 
including  the  fortress,  cannot  be  more  than  300  yards  square, 
and  yet  none  of  the  characteristics  of  a  large  Oriental  city  are 
omitted. 

Leaving  BaTas,  we  travelled  northward,  over  a  waste, 
though  fertile  plain.  The  mountains  on  our  right  made 
a  grand  appearance,  with  their  feet  mantled  in  myrtle,  ami  their 
tops  plumed  with  pine.  They  rise  from  the  sea  with  a  long, 
bold  sweep,  but  each  peak  falls  off  in  a  precipice  on  the  oppo- 
site side,  as  if  the  chain  were  the  barrier  of  the  world  and 
there  was  nothing  but  space  beyond.  In  the  afternoon  we 
left  the  plain  for  a  belt  of  glorious  garden  land,  made  by 
itreams  that  came  down  from  the  mountains.  We  entered  a 
lane  embowered  in  pomegranate,  white  rose,  clematis,  and 
other  flowering  vines  and  shrubs,  and  overarched  by  snperr 


A    1-AND     OF     GARDENS.  225 

plane,  lime,  and  beech  trees,  chained  together  with  giant  grape 
vines  On  cither  side  were  fields  of  ripe  wheat  and  bar- 
ley, mulberry  orchards  and  groves  of  fruit  trees,  under  the 
shadt  of  which  the  Turkish  families  sat  or  slept  during  the 
hot  lours  of  the  day.  Birds  sang  in  the  boughs,  and  the 
gurgling  of  water  made  a  cool  undertone  to  their  music.  Out 
of  fairyland  where  shall  I  see  again  such  lovely  bowers?  We 
were  glad  when  the  soldiers  announced  that  it  was  necessary 
to  encamp  there ;  as  we  should  find  no  other  habitations  for 
more  than  twenty  miles. 

Our  tent  was  pitched  under  a  grand  sycamore,  beside  a 
pwift  mountain  stream  which  almost  made  the  circuit  of  our 
camp.  Beyond  the  tops  of  the  elm,  beech,  and  fig  groves,  we 
saw  the  picturesque  green  summits  of  the  lower  ranges  of 
Giaour  Dagh,  in  the  north-east,  while  over  the  southern 
meadows  a  golden  gleam  of  sunshine  lay  upon  the  Gulf  of 
Scanderoon.  The  village  near  us  was  Chaya,  where  there  is  a 
military  station.  The  guards  we  had  brought  from  Scan- 
deroon here  left  us  ;  but  the  commanding  officer  advised  us  tc 
take  others  on  the  norrow,  an  the  road  was  still  considered 


THB    LANDS    OF    THK    3ABACRH 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

\DANA    AND    TARSUS. 

Fb«  Black  Gate— The  Plain  of  Cilicia— A  Koord  Village— Missis— CUIcLin  Scenery- 
Arrlval  at  Adana — Three  days  in  Quarantine— We  receive  Pratique — A  Landscape— 
The  Plain  of  Tarsus— The  River  Cydnus— A  Vision  of  Cleopatra— Tarsus  and  Its 
Environs — The  Dunlktanh — The  Moon  of  Ramazan. 

"  Paul  said,  I  am  a  man  which  am  a  Jew  of  Tarsus,  a  city  In  Cflicla,  a  citiien  of  no 
mean  city."— Acre,  xxi.  89. 

KHAH  OH  Mr.  TAURUS,  Saturday,  JWM  19, 1858. 

WE  left  our  camp  at  Chaya  at  dawn,  with  an  escort  ot  three 
soldiers,  which  we  borrowed  from  the  guard  stationed  at  that 
place.  The  path  led  along  the  shore,  through  clumps  of 
myrtle  beaten  inland  by  the  wind,  and  rounded  as  smoothly  as 
if  they  had  been  clipped  by  a  gardener's  shears.  As  we 
approached  the  head  of  the  gulf,  the  peaked  summits  of  Giaour 
Dagh,  10,000  feet  in  height,  appeared  in  the  north-east.  The 
streams  we  forded  swarmed  with  immense  trout.  A  brown 
hedgehog  ran  across  our  road,  but  when  I  touched  him  with 
the  end  of  my  pipe,  rolled  himself  into  an  impervious  ball  of 
orickles.  Soon  after  turning  the  head  of  the  gulf,  the  road 
swerved  off  to  the  west,  and  entered  a  narrow  pass,  between 
hills  covered  with  thick  copse-wood.  Here  we  came  upon  ac 
indent  gateway  of  black  lava  stone,  which  bears  marks  of 


THK    PLA1K    Of    OILICIA. 


227 


great  antiquity     It  is  now  called  Kara  Kap*,  the  "  Black 
Gate,"  and  some  suppose  it  to  have  been  one  of  the  ancient 

gates  of  Cilicia, 

Beyond  this,  our  road  led  over  high,  grassy  hills,  without  fi 
sign  of  human  habitation,  to  the  ruined  khan  of  Koord  Koolak. 
We  dismounted  and  unloaded  onr  baggage  in  the  spacious 
stone  archway,  and  drove  our  beasts  into  the  dark,  vaulted 
halls  behind.     The   building   was   originally   intended   for  a 
magazine  of  supplies,  and  from  the  ruined  mosque  near  it,  1 
suspect  it  was  formerly  one  of  the  caravan  stations  for  the 
pilgrims   from  Constantinople  to  Mecca. '   The  weather  was 
intensely  hot  and  sultry,  and  our  animals  were  almost  crazy 
from  the  attacks  of  a  large  yellow  gad-fly.     After  the  noonday 
heat  was  over  we  descended  to  the  first  Cilician  plain,  which  is 
bounded  on  the  west  by  the  range  of  Durdun  Dagh.     As  we 
had  now  passed  the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  road,  we  dis- 
missed the  three  soldiers  and   took  but  a  single  man  with  us. 
The  entire  plain  is  covered  with  wild  fennel,  six  to  eight  feet  in 
height,   and   literally  blazing  with   its  bloomy   yellow   tops. 
Riding  through  it,  I  could  barely  look  over  them,  and  far  aud 
wide,  on  all  sides,  spread  a  golden  sea,  out  of  which  the  long 
violet   hills   rose  with  the   loveliest  effect.     Brown,  shining 
serpents,  from  four  to  six  feet  in  length,  frequently  slid  acros8 
our  path.     The  plain,  which  must  be  sixty  miles  in  circumfe- 
rence, is  wholly  uncultivated,  though  no  land  could  possibly  be 
richer. 

Out  of  the  region  of  fennel  we  passed  into  one  of  red  and 
white  clover,  timothy  grass  and  wild  oats.  The  thistles  were 
so  large  as  to  resemble  young  palm-trees,  and  the  salsify  of  our 
gardens  grew  rank  and  wild.  At  length  we  dipped  into  the 


THE     LANDS    OF    THE    BARAOXJT. 

evening  shadow  of  Durdun  Dagh,  and  reached  the  village  oi 
Koord  Keui,  on  his  lower  slope.  As  there  was  no  place  foi 
onr  tent  on  the  rank  grass  of  the  plain  or  the  steep  side  of  th* 
hill,  we  took  forcible  possession  of  the  winnowing-floor,  a  flat 
terrace  built  up  under  two  sycamores,  and  still  covered  with 
the  chaff  of  the  last  threshing.  The  Koords  took  the  whole 
thing  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  even  brought  ns  a  felt  carpet 
to  rest  upon.  They  came  and  seated  themselves  around  us, 
chatting  sociably,  while  we  lay  in  the  tent-door,  smoking  the 
pipe  of  refreshment.  The  view  over  the  wide  golden  plain, 
and  the  hills  beyond,  to  the  distant,  snow-tipped  peaks  of 
Akma  Dagh,  was  superb,  as  the  shadow  of  the  mountain  behind 
ns  slowly  lengthened  over  it,  blotting  out  the  mellow  lights  of 
sunset.  There  were  many  fragments  of  pillars  and  capitals  of 
white  marble  built  up  in  the  houses,  showing  that  they  occu- 
pied the  site  of  some  ancient  village  or  temple. 

The  next  morning,  we  crossed  Durdun  Dagh,  and  entered 
the  great  plain  of  Cilicia.  The  range,  after  we  had  passed  it, 
presented  a  grand,  bold,  broken  outline,  blue  in  the  morning 
vapor,  and  wreathed  with  shifting  belts  of  cloud.  A  stately 
castle,  called  the  Palace  of  Serpents,  on  the  summit  of  an 
isolated  peak  to  the  north,  stood  out  clear  and  high,  in  the 
midst  of  a  circle  of  fog,  like  a  phantom  picture  of  the  air.  The 
River  Jyhoon,  the  ancient  Pyramus,  which  rises  on  the  borders 
of  Armenia,  sweeps  the  western  base  of  the  mountains.  It  is 
a  larger  stream  than  the  Orontes,  with  a  deep,  rapid  current, 
flowing  at  the  bottom  of  a  bed  lower  than  the  level  of  the 
plain.  In  three  hours,  we  reached  Missis,  the  ancient  Mop- 
•uestia,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river.  There  are  extensivt 
nrina  on  the  left  bank,  which  were  probably  those  of  the  for 


ARRIVAL    AT    ADANA.  229 

naer  city  The  soil  for  somo  distance  aroand  is  scattered  with 
broken  pillars  capitals  and  hewn  stones.  The  ancient  bridge 
still  crosses  the  river,  but  the  central  arch  having  been  broken 
away,  is  replaced  with  a  wooden  platform.  The  modern  towi. 
.8  a  forlorn  place,  and  all  the  glorious  plain  around  it  is  uncut 
drated.  The  view  over  this  plain  was  magnificent :  unbounded 
towards  the  sea,  but  on  the  north  girdled  by  the  sublime  range 
of  Taurus,  whose  great  snow-fields  gleamed  in  the  sun.  In  the 
afternoon,  we  reached  the  old  bridge  over  the  Jyhoon,  at 
Adana.  The  eastern  bank  is  occupied  with  the  graves  of  the 
former  inhabitants,  and  there  are  at  least  fifteen  acres  of  tomb- 
stones, as  thickly  planted  as  the  graves  can  be  dug.  The  fields 
of  wheat  and  barley  along  the  river  are  very  rich,  and  at  pre- 
sent the  natives  are  busily  occupied  in  drawing  the  sheaves  on 
large  sleds  to  the  open  threshing-floors. 

The  city  is  built  over  a  low  eminence,  and  its  four  tall  mina- 
rets, with  a  number  of  palm-trees  rising  from  the  mass  of 
brown  brick  walls,  reminded  me  of  Egypt.  At  the  end  of  the 
bridge,  we  were  met  by  one  of  the  Quarantine  officers,  who 
preceded  us,  taking  care  that  we  touched  nobody  in  the  streets, 
to  the  Quarantine  building.  This  land  quarantine,  between 
Syria  and  Asia  Minor,  when  the  former  country  is  free  from 
any  epidemic,  seems  a  most  absurd  thing.  We  were  detained 
at  Adana  three  days  and  a  half,  to  be  purified,  before  proceed- 
ing further.  Lately,  the  whole  town  was  placed  in  quarantine 
for  five  days,  because  a  Turkish  Bey,  who  lives  near  Baias, 
nntered  the  gates  without  being  noticed,  and  was  found  in  the 
bazaars.  The  Quarantine  building  was  once  a  palace  of  the 
Pashas  of  Adana,  but  is  now  in  a  half-ruined  condition.  The 
rooms  are  large  and  airy,  and  there  is  a  spacious  open  divar 


230  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

which  affords  ample  shade  aud  a  cool  breeze  throughout  the 
whole  day.  Ftrtunately  for  us,  there  were  only  three  persona 
in  Quarantine,  who  occupied  a  room  distaut  from  ours.  The 
Inspector  was  a  very  obliging  person,  and  procured  us  a  table 
and  two  chairs.  The  only  table  to  be  had  in  the  whole  place — 
a  town  of  15,000  inhabitants — belonged  to  an  Italian  merchant, 
who  kindly  gave  it  for  our  use.  We  employed  a  messenger  to 
purchase  provisions  in  the  bazaars ;  and  our  days  passed 
quietly  in  writing,  smoking,  and  gazing  indolently  from  our 
windows  upon  the  flowery  plains  beyond  the  town.  Our  nights, 
however,  were  tormented  by  small  white  gnats,  which  stung  us 
unmercifully.  The  physician  of  Quarantine,  Dr.  Spaguolo,  is  a 
Venetian  refugee,  and  formerly  editor  of  La  Lego,  Italiana,  a 
paper  published  in  Venice  during  the  revolution.  He  informed 
us  that,  except  the  Princess  Belgioioso,  who  passed  through 
Adaua  on  her  way  to  Jerusalem,  we  were  the  only  travellers 
he  had  seen  for  eleven  months. 

After  three  days  and  four  nights  of  grateful,  because  invo- 
'untary,  indolence,  Dr.  Spagnolo  gave  us  pratique,  and  we  lost 
no  time  in  getting  under  weigh  again.  We  were  the  only 
occupants  of  Quarantine  ;  and  as  we  moved  out  of  the  portal 
of  the  old  serai',  at  sunrise,  no  one  was  guarding  it.  The 
Inspector  and  Mustapha,  the  messenger,  took  their  back- 
sheeshes  with  silent  gratitude.  The  plain  on  the  west  side  of 
the  town  is  well  cultivated ;  and  as  we  rode  along  towards 
Tarsus,  I  was  charmed  with  the  rich  pastoral  air  of  the 
scenery.  It  was  like  one  of  the  midland  landscapes  of  Eng- 
land, bathed  in  Southern  sunshine.  The  beautiful  level, 
stretching  away  to  the  mountains,  stood  golden  with  the  fields 
•j/1  wheat  which  the  reapers  were  cutting.  It  was  no  longer 


THE    ROAD    TO    TARSUS.  231 

bare,  but  dotted  with  orange  groves,  clumps  of  holly,  and  a 
number  of  magnificent  terebinth-trees,  whos*;  dark,  rounded 
masses  of  foliage  remind  one  of  the  Northern  oak.  Cattle 
were  grazing  in  the  stubble,  and  horses,  almost  buried  under 
loads  of  fresh  grass,  met  us  as  they  passed  to  the  city.  The- 
sheaves  were  drawn  to  the  threshing-floor  on  sleds,  and  *<ve 
could  see  the  husbandmen  in  the  distance  treading  out  and 
winnowing  the  grain.  Over  these  bright,  busy  scenes,  rose 
the  lesser  heights  of  the  Taurus,  and  beyond  them,  mingled  in 
white  clouds,  the  snows  of  the  crowning  range. 

The  road  to  Tarsus,  which  is  eight  hours  distant,  lies  over  an 
unbroken  plain.  Towards  the  sea,  there  are  two  tumuli,  resem- 
bling those  on  the  plains  east  of  Antioch.  Stone  wells,  with 
troughs  for  watering  horses,  occur  at  intervals  of  three  or  four 
miles  ;  but  there  is  little  cultivation  after  leaving  the  vicinity 
of  Adana.  The  sun  poured  down  an  intense  summer  heat,  and 
hundreds  of  large  gad-flies,  swarming  around  us,  drove  the 
horses  wild  with  their  stings.  Towards  noon,  we  stopped 
at  a  little  village  for  breakfast.  We  took  possession  of  a 
shop,  which  the  good-natured  merchant  offered  us,  and  were 
about  to  spread  our  provisions  upon  the  counter,  when  the 
gnats  and  mosquitoes  fairly  drove  us  away.  We  at  once  went 
forward  in  search  of  a  better  place,  which  gave  occasion  to  our 
chief  mukkairee,  Hadji  Youssuf,  for  a  violent  remonstrance 
The  terms  of  the  agreement  at  Aleppo  gave  the  entire  control 
of  the  journey  into  our  own  hands,  and  the  Hadji  now  sought 
to  violate  it.  He  protested  against  our  travelling  more  than 
six  hours  a  day,  and  conducted  himself  so  insolently,  that  we 
threatened  to  take  him  before  the  Pasha  of  Tarsus.  This 
silenced  him  for  the  time  ;  but  we  hate  him  so  cordially  sine/ 


232  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

then,  that  I  foresee  we  shall  have  more  trouble.  Iii  the  after 
noon,  a  gust,  sweeping  along  the  sides  of  Taurus,  cooled  the  ab 
and  afforded  us  a  little  relief. 

By  three  o'clock  we  reached  the  River  Cydnus,  which  is 
bare  of  trees  on  its  eastern  side,  but  flows  between  bantu 
covered  with  grass  and  shrubs.  It  is  still  spanned  by  the 
aucient  bridge,  and  the  mules  now  step  in  the  hollow  ruts  worn 
long  ago  by  Roman  and  Byzantine  chariot  wheels.  The  stream 
is  not  more  than  thirty  yards  broad,  but  has  a  very  full  and 
rapid  current  of  a  bluish-white  color,  from  the  snows  which  feed 
it  I  rode  down  to  the  brink  and  drank  a  cup  of  the  water. 
It  was  exceedingly  cold,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  a  bath  in  it 
should  have  killed  the  Emperor  Barbarossa.  From  the  top  of 
the  bridge,  there  is  a  lovely  view,  down  the  stream,  where  it 
washes  a  fringe  of  willows  and  heavy  fruit-trees  on  its  western 
bank,  and  then  winds  away  through  the  grassy  plain,  to  the 
sea.  For  once,  my  fancy  ran  parallel  with  the  inspiration  of  the 
scene.  I  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  galley  of  Cleopatra 
slowly  stemming  the  current  of  the  stream,  its  silken  sails  filled 
with  the  sea-breeze,  its  gilded  oars  keeping  time  to  the  flutes, 
whose  voluptuous  melodies  floated  far  out  over  the  vernal 
meadows.  Tarsus  was  probably  almost  hidden  then,  as  now, 
by  its  gardens,  except  just  where  it  touched  the  river  ;  and  the 
dazzling  vision  of  the  Egyptian  Queen,  as  she  came  up  con- 
quering and  to  conquer,  must  have  been  all  the  more  bewilder- 
ing, from  the  lovely  bowers  through  which  she  sailed. 

From  the  bridge  an  ancient  road  still  leads  to  the  old 
Byzantine  gate  of  Tarsus.  Part  of  the  town  is  encompassed 
by  a  wall,  built  by  the  Caliph  Haroim  Al-Raschid,  and  there 
is  a  ruined  fortress,  which  is  attributed  to  Sultan  Bajazet 


TAB8U&  888 

Small  streams,  brought  from  the  Cydnas,  traverse  the  environs 
and,  with  such  a  fertile  soil,  the  luxuriance  of  the  gardens  in 
which  the  city  lies  buried  is  almost  incredible.  In  our  rambles 
in  search  of  a  place  to  pitch  the  tent,  we  entered  a  superb 
?range-orchard,  the  foliage  of  which  made  a  perpetual  twilight. 
Many  of  the  trunks  were  two  feet  in  diameter.  The  houses 
are  mostly  of  one  story,  and  the  materials  are  almost  wholly 
borrowed  from  the  ancient  city.  Pillars,  capitals,  fragments 
of  cornices  and  entablatures  abound.  I  noticed  here,  as  in 
A.dana,  a  high  wooden  frame  on  the  top  of  every  house,  raised 
a  few  steps  above  the  roof,  and  covered  with  light  muslin,  like 
a  portable  bathing-house.  Here  the  people  put  up  their  beda 
in  the  evening,  sleep,  and  come  down  to  the  roofs  in  the  morn- 
ing— an  excellent  plan  for  getting  better  air  in  these  malarious 
plains  and  escaping  from  fleas  and  mosquitoes.  In  our  search 
for  the  Armenian  Church,  which  is  said  to  have  been  founded 
by  St.  Paul  ("Saul  of  Tarsus"),  we  came  upon  a  mosque, 
which  had  been  originally  a  Christian  Church,  of  Greek  times 
From  the  top  of  a  mound,  whereupon  stand  the  remains  of  an 
ancient  circular  edifice,  we  obtained  a  fine  view  of  the  city  and 
plain  of  Tarsus.  A  few  houses  or  clusters  of  houses  stood 
here  and  there  like  reefs  amid  the  billowy  green,  and  the  mina- 
rets— one  of  them  with  a  nest  of  young  storks  on  its  very 
summit — rose  like  the  masts  of  sunken  ships.  Some  palms 
lifted  their  tufted  heads  from  the  gardens,  beyond  which  the 
great  plain  extended  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea.  The 
tumulus  near  Mersyn,  the  port  of  Tarsus,  was  plainly  visible. 
Two  hours  from  Mersyn  are  the  ruins  of  Pompeiopolis,  the 
name  given  by  Pompey  to  the  town  of  Soli,  after  his  conquest 
of  the  Cilician  pirates.  From  Soli,  on  account  of  the  bad 


234  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

Greek  spoken  by  its  inhabitants,  came  the  term  "  solecism." 
The  ruins  of  Potnpeiopolis  consist  of  a  theatre,  temples,  and  a 
number  of  houses,  still  in  good  preservation.  The  whole 
^oast,  as  far  as  Aleya,  three  hundred  miles  west  of  this,  is  said 
to  abound  with  ruined  cities,  and  I  regret  exceedingly  that 
time  will  not  permit  me  to  explore  it. 

While  searching  for  the  antiquities  about  Tarsus,  I  accosted 
a  man  in  a  Frank  dress,  who  proved  to  be  the  Neapolitan 
Consul.  He  told  us  that  the  most  remarkable  relic  was  the 
Duniktash  (the  Round  Stone),  and  procured  us  a  guide.  It 
lies  in  a  garden  near  the  city,  and  is  certainly  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  monuments  in  the  East.  It  consists  of  a  square 
iuclosure  of  solid  masonry,  350  feet  long  by  150  feet  wide,  the 
walls  of  which  are  eighteen  feet  in  thickness  and  twenty  feet 
high.  It  appears  to  have  been  originally  a  solid  mass,  without 
entrance,  but  a  passage  has  been  broken  in  one  place,  and  in 
another  there  is  a  split  or  fissure,  evidently  produced  by  an 
earthquake.  The  material  is  rough  stone,  brick  and  mortar, 
Inside  of  the  inclosure  are  two  detached  square  masses  of 
masonry,  of  equal  height,  and  probably  eighty  feet  on  a  side, 
without  opening  of  any  kind.  One  of  them  has  been  pierced 
at  the  bottom,  a  steep  passage  leading  to  a  pit  or  well,  but  the 
sides  of  the  passage  thus  broken  indicate  that  the  whole  struo 
ture  is  one  solid  mass.  It  is  generally  supposed  that  they 
were  intended  as  tombs  :  but  of  whom  ?  There  is  no  sign  by 
which  they  may  be  recognized,  and,  what  is  more  singular,  nc 
tradition  concerning  them. 

The  day  we  reached  Tarsus  Vas  the  first  of  the  Turkish  fast- 
month  of  Ramazau  the  inhabitants  having  seen  t'le  new  moon 
the  night  before.  At  Adana,  where  they  did  not  keep  such  8 


TEC    MOON     OF     RAMAZAM  235 

slose  look-oat,  the  fast  had  not  commenced.  During  its  con 
tinuance,  which  is  from  twenty-eight  to  twenty-nine  days,  ac 
Mussulman  dares  eat,  driuk,  or  smoke,  from  an  hour  before 
sunrise  till  half  an  houi  after  sunset.  The  Mohammedup 
months  are  lunar,  and  each  month  makes  the  whole  round  of 
the  seasons,  once  in  thirty-three  years.  When,  therefore,  the 
Ramazan  comes  in  midsummer,  as  at  present,  the  fulfilment  of 
this  fast  is  a  great  trial,  even  to  the  strongest  and  most  devout. 
Eighteen  hours  without  meat  or  drink,  and  what  is  still  worse 
to  a  genuine  Turk,  without  a  pipe,  is  a  rigid  test  of  faith. 
The  rich  do  the  best  they  can  to  avoid  it,  by  feasting  all  night 
aud  sleeping  all  day,  but  the  poor,  who  must  perform  their 
daily  avocations,  as  usual,  suffer  exceedingly.  In  walking 
through  Tarsus  I  saw  many  wretched  faces  in  the  bazaars,  and 
the  guide  who  accompanied  us  had  a  painfully  famished  air. 
Fortunately  the  Koran  expressly  permits  invalids,  children,  and 
travellers  to  disregard  the  fast,  so  that  although  we  eat  and 
drink  when  we  like,  we  are  none  the  less  looked  upon  as  good 
Mussulmans.  About  dark  a  gun  is  fired  and  a  rocket  sent  up 
from  the  mosque,  announcing  the  termination  of  the  day's  fast. 
The  meals  are  already  prepared,  the  pipes  filled,  the  coffee 
smokes  in  the  finjans,  and  the  echoes  have  not  died  away  nor 
the  last  sparks  of  the  rocket  become  extinct,  before  half  the 
inhabitants  are  satisfying  their  hunger,  thirst  and  smoke-lust. 

We  left  Tarsus  this  morning,  aud  are  now  encamped  among 
the  pines  of  Mount  Taurus.  The  last  flush  of  sunset  is  fading 
fro::a  his  eternal  snows,  and  I  drop  my  pen  to  enjoy  the  silend 
jf  twilight  in  this  mountain  solitude. 


230 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE    PASS    OF    MOUNT    TAURUS. 

We  enter  the  Taurus — Turcomans — Forest  Scenery — the  Palace  of  Pan—  Khan  Meiar- 
Ink— Morning  among  the  Mountains— The  Gorge  of  the  Cydnus— The  Cra^  of  th« 
Portress — The  Cilician  Gate — Deserted  Forts — A  Sublime  Landscape — The  Gorge  of  the 
Silicon — The  Second  Gate — Camp  in  the  Defile — Sunrise — Journey  up  the  Sihoon — A 
Change  of  Scenery — A  Pastoral  Valley — Kolii  Kushla — A  Deserted  Khan — A  Guest  In 
Ramazan— Flowers— The  Plain  of  Karamania— Barren  Hills— The  Town  of  Eregli- 
The  Hadji  again. 

"  Lo !  where  the  pass  expands 
Its  stony  jaws,  the  abrupt  mountain  breaks, 
And  seems,  with  its  accumulated  crags, 
To  overhang  the  world."  SHKLLKT. 

ERBGU,  in  Karamania,  Juneffi,  1801. 

STRIKING  our  tetit  in  the  gardens  of  Tarsus,  we  again  crossed 
the  Cydnus,  and  took  a  northern  course  across  the  plaiu.  The 
long  line  of  Taurus  rose  before  us,  seemingly  divided  into  four 
successive  ranges,  the  highest  of  which  was  folded  in  clouds  ; 
only  the  long  streaks  of  snow,  filling  the  ravines,  being  visible. 
The  outlines  of  these  ranges  were  very  fine,  the  waving  line 
of  the  summits  cut  here  and  there  by  precipitous  gorges — the 
gateways  of  rivers  that  came  down  to  the  plain.  In  about  two 
hours,  we  entered  the  lower  hills.  They  are  barren  and  stony, 
with  a  white,  chalky  soil ;  but  the  valleys  were  filled  with 
myrtle,  oleander,  and  lanristinus  in  bloom,  and  lavender  grew 


THE     OLKAN1ER TURCOMANS.  231 

h»  great  profusion  on  the  hill-sides.  The  flowers  'A  the  olean 
der  gave  out  a  delicate,  almond-like  fragrance,  and  grew  in 
such  dense  clusters  as  frequently  to  hide  the  foliage.  I  amused 
myself  with  finding  a  derivation  of  the  name  of  this  beautiful 
plant,  which  may  answer  until  somebody  discovers  a  better  one. 
Hero,  when  the  corpse  of  her  lover  was  cast  ashore  by  tin 
waves,  buried  him  under  an  oleander  bush,  where  she  was 
accustomed  to  sit  daily,  and  lament  over  his  untimely  fate. 
Now,  a  foreign  horticulturist,  happening  to  pass  by  when  the 
shrub  was  in  blossom,  was  much  struck  with  its  beauty,  and 
asked  Hero  what  it  was  called.  But  she,  absorbed  in  grief, 
and  thinking  only  of  her  lover,  clasped  her  hands,  and  sighed 
out :  "  0  Leander  !  0  Leander !"  which  the  horticulturist 
immediately  entered  in  his  note-book  as  the  name  of  the  shrub ; 
and  by  that  name  it  is  known,  to  the  present  time. 

For  two  or  three  hours,  the  scenery  was  rather  tame,  the 
higher  summits  being  obscured  with  a  thunder-cloud.  Towards 
noon,  however,  we  passed  the  first  chain,  and  saw,  across  a 
strip  of  rolling  land  intervening,  the  grand  ramparts  of  the 
second,  looming  dark  and  large  under  the  clouds.  A  circular 
watch-tower  of  white  stone,  standing  on  the  summit  of  a  pro- 
montory at  the  mouth  of  a  gorge  on  our  right,  flashed  out 
boldly  against  the  storm.  We  stopped  under  an  oak-tree  to 
take  breakfast ;  but  there  was  no  water  ;  and  two  Turks,  who 
were  resting  while  their  horses  grazed  in  the  meadow,  told  us 
we  should  find  a  good  spring  half  a  mile  further.  We  ascended 
a  long  slope,  covered  with  wheat-fields,  where  numbers  of  Tur- 
coman reapers  were  busy  at  work,  passed  their  black  tents, 
surrounded  with  droves  of  sheep  and  gouts,  and  reached  a  rude 
itoue  fountain  cf  good  water,  where  two  companies  of  these 


238  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

people  had  stopped  to  rest,  on  their  way  to  the  mom  tains.  It 
was  the  time  of  noon  prayer,  and  they  went  through  theii 
devotions  with  great  solemnity.  We  nestled  deep  in  a  bed  of 
myrtles,  while  we  breakfasted  ;  for  the  sky  was  clouded,  and  thf 
wind  blew  cool  and  fresh  from  the  region  of  rain  above  ua 
Some  of  the  Turcomans  asked  us  for  bread,  and  were  very 
grateful  when  we  gave  it  to  them. 

In  the  afternoon,  we  came  into  a  higher  and  wilder  region, 
where  the  road  led  through  thickets  of  wild  olive,  holly,  oak, 
and  lauristinus,  with  occasional  groves  of  pine.  What  a  joy  I 
felt  in  hearing,  once  more,  the  grand  song  of  my  favorite  tree  1 
Our  way  was  a  woodland  road  ;  a  storm  had  passed  over  the 
region  in  the  morning ;  the  earth  was  still  fresh  and  moist,  and 
there  was  an  aromatic  smell  of  leaves  in  the  air.  We  turned 
westward  into  the  entrance  of  a  deep  valley,  over  which  hung 
a  perpendicular  cliff  of  gray  and  red  rock,  fashioned  by  nature 
so  as  to  resemble  a  vast  fortress,  with  windows,  portals  and 
projecting  bastions.  Francois  displayed  his  knowledge  of 
mythology,  by  declaring  it  to  be  the  Palace  of  Pan.  While 
we  were  carrying  Dut  the  idea,  by  making  chambers  for  the 
Fanns  and  Nymphs  in  the  basement  story  of  x,he  precipice,  the 
path  wound  around  the  shoulder  of  the  moun'-ain,  and  the  glen 
spread  away  before  us,  branching  op  into  1  iftier  ranges,  dis- 
closing through  its  gateway  of  cliffs,  rising  out  of  the  steeps 
of  pine  forest,  a  sublime  vista  of  blue  mountain  peaks,  climb 
ing  to  the  topmost  snows.  It  was  a  magnificent  Alpine  land- 
scape, more  glowing  and  rich  than  Switzerland,  yet  equalling  il 
in  all  the  loftier  characteristics  of  mountain  scenery.  Anothei 
and  greater  precipice  towered  over  us  on  the  right,  and  th( 
black  eagles  which  had  made  their  eyries  in  its  niched  and 


KHAX     MEZARLUK.  289 

• 

cavenied  vaults,  were  wheeling  around  its  crest.  A  branch  of 
the  Cydnus  foamed  along  the  bottom  of  the  gorge,  and  som« 
Turcoman  boys  were  tending  their  herds  on  its  banks. 

Further  up  the  glen,  we  found  a  fountain  of  delicious  water, 
beside  the  deserted  Khan  of  Mezarluk,  and  there  encamped 
for  the  night.  Our  tent  was  pitched  on  the  mountain  side, 
near  a  fountain  of  the  coolest,  clearest  and  sweetest  water  1 
have  seen  in  all  the  East.  There  was  perfect  silence  among 
the  mountains,  and  the  place  was  as  lonely  as  it  was  sublime. 
The  night  was  cool  and  fresh  ;  but  I  could  not  sleep  until 
towards  morning.  When  I  opened  my  belated  eyes,  the  tall 
peaks  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  glen  were  girdled  below  their 
waists  with  the  flood  of  a  sparkling  sunrise.  The  sky  was 
pure  as  crystal,  except  a  soft  white  fleece  that  veiled  the  snowy 
pinnacles  of  Taurus,  folding  and  unfolding,  rising  and  sinking, 
as  if  to  make  their  beauty  still  more  attractive  by  the  partial 
concealment.  The  morning  air  was  almost  cold,  but  so  pure 
and  bracing — so  aromatic  with  the  healthy  breath  of  the  pines — 
that  I  took  it  down  in  the  fullest  possible  draughts. 

We  rode  up  the  glen,  following  the  course  of  the  Cyduus, 
through  scenery  of  the  wildest  and  most  romantic  character 
The  bases  of  the  mountains  were  completely  enveloped  in 
forests  of  pine,  but  their  summits  rose  in  precipitous  crags, 
many  hundreds  of  feet  in  height,  hanging  above  our  very  heads 
Even  after  the  sun  was  five  hours  high,  their  shadows  fell  npon 
as  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  glen.  Mixed  with  the  pine 
irero  occasional  oaks,  an  undergrowth  of  hawthorn  in  bloom, 
and  shrubs  covered  with  yellow  and  white  flowers.  O'er  these 
the  wild  grape  threw  its  rich  festoons,  filling  the  air  with 
exquisite  fragrance. 


Z4t  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  BARACEW. 

Out  of  this  glen,  we  passed  into  another,  still  narrower  and 
wilder.  The  road  was  the  old  Roman  way,  and  in  tolerable 
condition,  though  it  had  evidently  not  been  mended  for  many 
centuries.  In  half  an  hour,  the  pass  opened,  disclosing  an 
enormous  peak  in  front  of  us,  crowned  with  the  ruins  of  an 
ancient  fortress  of  considerable  extent.  The  position  was 
almost  impregnable,  the  mountain  dropping  on  one  side  into  a 
precipics  five  hundred  feet  in  perpendicular  height.  Under 
the  cliffs  of  the  loftiest  ridge,  there  was  a  terrace  planted  with 
walnut-trees :  a  charming  little  hamlet  in  the  wilderness.  Wild 
sycamore-trees,  with  white  trunks  and  bright  green  foliage, 
shaded  the  foamy  twists  of  the  Cydnus,  as  it  plunged  down  its 
difficult  bed.  The  pine  thrust  its  roots  into  the  naked  preci- 
pices, and  from  their  summits  hung  out  over  the  great  abyswg 
below.  I  thought  of  (Enone's 


-"  tall,  dark  pines,  that  fringed  the  craggy  ledge 


High  over  the  blue  gorge,  and  all  between 
The  snowy  peak  and  snow-white  cataract 
Fostered  the  callow  eaglet ;" 

and  certainly  she  had  on  Mount  Ida  no  more  beautiful  tree* 
than  these. 

We  had  doubled  the  Crag  of  the  Fortress,  when  the  pass 
closed  before  us,  shut  in  by  two  immense  precipices  of  sheer, 
barren  rock,  more  than  a  thousand  feet  in  height.  Vast  frag- 
ments, fallen  from  above,  choked  up  the  entrance,  whence  the 
Cyduus,  spouting  forth  in  foam,  leaped  into  the  defile.  The 
ancient  road  was  completely  destroyed,  but  traces  of  it  were 
to  be  seen  on  the  rocks,  ten  feet  above  the  present  bed  of  the 
rtream,  and  on  the  broken  ma  ->:es  which  had  been  hurled  below 


THE     CILICIAN     GATE.  241 

The  path  wound  with  difficulty  among  these  wrecks,  and  then 
merged  into  the  stream  itself,  as  we  entered  the  gateway.  A 
violent  wind  blew  in  our  faces  as  we  rode  through  the  strait, 
which  is  not  ten  yards  in  breadth,  while  its  walls  rise  to  the 
rogion  of  the  clouds.  In  a  few  minutes  we  had  traversed  it, 
aad  stood  looking  back  on  the  ehormous  gap.  There  were 
several  Greek  tablets  cut  in  the  rock  above  the  old  road,  but 
so  defaced  as  to  be  illegible.  This  is  undoubtedly  the  princi- 
pal gate  of  the  Taurus,  and  the  pass  through  which  the  armies 
of  Cyrus  and  Alexander  entered  Cilicia. 

Beyond  the  gate  the  mountains  retreated,  and  we  climbed 
up  a  little  dell,  past  two  or  three  Turcoman  houses,  to  the  top 
of  a  hill,  whence  opened  a  view  of  the  principal  range,  now 
close  at  hand.  The  mountains  in  front  were  clothed  with  dark 
cedars  to  their  very  tops,  and  the  snow-fields  behind  them 
seemed  da/zlingly  bright  and  near.  Our  course  for  several 
miles  now  lay  through  a  more  open  valley,  drained  by  the 
upper  waters  of  the  Cydnus.  On  two  opposing  terraces  of 
the  mountain  chains  are  two  fortresses,  built  by  Ibraham 
Pasha,  but  now  wholly  deserted.  They  are  large  and  well- 
constructed  works  of  stone,  and  surrounded  by  ruins  of  stables, 
ovens,  and  the  rude  houses  of  the  soldiery.  Passing  between 
these,  we  ascended  to  the  shelf  dividing  the  waters  of  the 
Cydnus  and  the  Sihoon.  From  the  point  where  the  slope 
descends  to  the  latter  river,  there  opened  before  me  one  of  the 
most  glorious  landscapes  I  ever  beheld.  J  stood  at  the 
extremity  of  a  long  hollow  or  depression  between  the  two 
ranges  of  the  Taurus — not  a  valley,  for  it  was  divided  by  deep 
cloven  chasms,  hemmed  in  by  steeps  overgrown  with  cedars. 
On  my  right  rose  a  sublime  chain,  soaring  far  oat  of  the  region 

11 


242  TliE    LANDS     OF    THE    SARACEN. 

of  trees,  and  lifting  its  peaked  summits  of  gray  rock  into  the 
?ky.  Another  chain,  nearly  as  lofty,  but  not  so  broken,  nor 
with  such  large,  imposing  features,  overhung  me  on  the  left ; 
and  far  in  front,  filling  up  the  magnificent  vista — filling  up  all 
between  the  lower  steeps,  crowned  with  pine,  and  the  roum' 
«rhite  clouds  hanging  on  the  verge  of  heaven — were  the  shining 
snows  of  the  Taurus.  Great  G<xl,  how  shall  I  describe  the 
grandeur  of  that  view  !  How  draw  the  wonderful  outlines  of 
those  mountains  !  How  paint  the  airy  hue  of  violet-gray,  the 
soft  white  lights,  the  thousandfold  pencillings  of  mellow  shadow, 
the  height,  the  depth,  the  far-reaching  vastness  of  the  land 
scape  ! 

In  the  middle  distance,  a  great  blue  gorge  passed  transversely 
across  the  two  ranges  and  the  region  between.  This,  as  I 
rightly  conjectured,  was  the  bed  of  the  Sihoou.  Our  road  led 
downward  through  groves  of  fragrant  cedars,  and  we  travelled 
thus  for  two  hours  before  reaching  the  river.  Taking  a  north 
ward  course  up  his  banks,  we  reached  the  second  of  the  Pylt 
CilicuK  before  sunset.  It  is  on  a  grander  scale  than  the  first 
gate,  though  not  so  startling  and  violent  in  its  features.  The 
bare  walls  on  either  side  fall  sheer  to  the  water,  and  the  road, 
crossing  the  Sihoon  by  a  lofty  bridge  of  a  single  arch,  is  cut 
along  the  face  of  the  rock.  Near  the  bridge  a  subterranean 
stream,  almost  as  large  as  the  river,  bursts  forth  from  the  solid 
heart  of  the  mountain.  On  either  side  gigantic  masses  of  rock, 
with  here  and  there  a  pine  to  adorn  their  sterility,  tower  to 
Jit  height  of  6,000  feet,  in  some  places  almost  perpendicular 
from  summit  to  base.  They  are  worn  and  broken  into  all 
fantastic  forms.  There  are  pyramids,  towers,  bastions,  mina- 
ret*, and  long,  sharp  spires,  splintered  and  jagged  as  the  tor 


SUNRISE     IN     THE     PASS.  243 

rets  of  an  iceberg.  I  Lave  seen  higher  mountaii  s,  but  I  have 
never  seen  any  which  looked  so  high  as  these.  We  camped  on 
a  narrow  plot  of  ground,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  tremendous 
gorge.  A  soldier,  passing  along  at  dusk,  told  us  that  a  mer 
chant  and  his  servant  were  murdered  in  the  same  place  last 
winter,  and  advised  us  to  keep  watch.  But  we  slept  safely  all 
night,  while  the  stars  sparkled  over  the  chasm,  and  slips  of 
misty  cloud  hung  low  on  the  thousand  pinnacles  of  rock 

When  I  awoke,  the  gorge  lay  in  deep  shadow  ;  but  high  up 
on  the  western  mountain,  above  the  enormous  black  pyramids 
that  arose  from  the  river,  the  topmost  pinnacles  of  rock 
sparkled  like  molten  silver,  in  the  full  gush  of  sunrise.  The 
great  mountain,  blocking  up  the  gorge  behind  us,  was  bathed 
almost  to  its  foot  in  the  rays,  and,  seen  through  such  a  dark 
vista,  was  glorified  beyond  all  other  mountains  of  Earth.  The 
air  was  piercingly  cold  and  keen,  and  I  could  scarcely  bear  the 
water  of  the  Silicon  on  my  sun-inflamed  face.  There  was  a 
little  spring  not  far  off,  from  which  we  obtained  sufficient  water 
to  drink,  the  river  being  too  muddy.  The  spring  was  but  a 
thread  oozing  from  the  soil ;  but  the  Hadji  collected  it  in  hand- 
fuls,  which  he  emptied  into  his  water-skin,  and  then  brought 
to  us. 

The  morning  light  gave  a  still  finer  effect  to  the  manifold 
forms  of  the  mountains  than  that  of  the  afternoon  sun.  The 
soft  gray  hue  of  the  rocks  shone  clearly  against  the  cloudless 
sky,  fretted  all  over  with  the  shadows  thrown  by  their  inm>. 
merable  spires  and  jutting  points,  and  by  the  natural  arches 
acooped  out  under  the  cliffs.  After  travelling  less  than  au 
Hour,  wo  passed  the  riven  walls  of  the  mighty  gateway,  and 
rode  aeain  under  the  shade  of  pine  forests.  The  height  of  tfw 


244  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

mountains  now  gradually  diminished,  and  *heir  sides,  covered 
with  pine  and  cedar,  became  less  broken  and  abrupt.  The 
sumrrits,  nevertheless,  still  retained  the  same  rocky  spine, 
shooting  np  into  tall,  single  towers,  or  long  lines  of  even  para- 
pets Occasionally,  through  gaps  between,  we  caught  glimpses 
of  the  snow-fields,  dazzlingly  high  and  white. 

After  travelling  eight  or  nine  miles,  we  emerged  from  the 
pass,  and  left  the  Sihoori  at  a  place  called  Chiftlik  Khan — a 
stone  building,  with  a  small  fort  adjoining,  wherein  fifteen 
splendid  bronze  cannon  lay  neglected  on  their  broken  and  rot- 
ting  carriages.  As  we  crossed  the  stone  bridge  over  the  river, 
a  valley  opened  suddenly  on  the  left,  disclosing  the  whole  rangt 
of  the  Taurus,  which  we  now  saw  on  its  northern  side,  a  vast 
stretch  of  rocky  spires,  with  sparkling  snow-fields  between,  ano 
long  ravines  filled  with  snow,  extending  far  down  between  the 
dark  blue  cliffs  and  the  dark  green  plumage  of  the  cedars. 

Immediately  after  passing  the  central  chain  of  the  Taurus, 
the  character  of  the  scenery  changed.  The  heights  were 
rounded,  the  rocky  strata  only  appearing  on  the  higher  peaks, 
and  the  slopes  of  loose  soil  were  deeply  cut  and  scarred  by  the 
rains  of  ages.  Both  in  appearance,  especially  in  the  scattered 
growth  of  trees  dotted  over  the  dark  red  soil,  and  in  their  for- 
mation, these  mountains  strongly  resemble  the  middle  ranges 
of  the  Californian  Sierra  Nevada.  We  climbed  a  long,  winding 
glen,  until  we  had  attained  a  considerable  height,  when  the 
read  reached  a  dividing  ridge,  giving  us  a  view  of  a  deep 
valley,  beyond  which  a  chain  of  barren  mountains  rose  to  the 
height  of  some  five  thousand  feet.  As  we  descended  the  rocky 
path,  a  little  caravan  of  asses  and  mules  clambered  up  to  meet 
as,  along  the  brinks  of  steep  gulfs.  The  narrow  strip  of 


A     PASTORAL    VALLEY.  245 

bottom  laud  along  the  stream  was  planted  with  rye,  now  in 
head,  and  rolling  in  silvery  waves  before  the  wind. 

After  our  noonday  halt,  we  went  over  the  hills  to  anothe: 
stream,  which  came  from  the  north-west.  Its  valley  wa« 
broader  and  greener  than  that  we  had  left,  and  the  hills  iucl>* 
•  ing  it  had  soft  and  undulating  outlines.  They  were  bare  of 
trees,  but  colored  a  pale  green  by  their  thin  clothing  of  grass 
and  herbs.  In  this  valley  the  season  was  so  late,  owing  to  its 
height  above  the  sea,  that  the  early  spring-flowers  were  yet 
in  bloom.  Poppies  flamed  among  the  wheat,  and  the  banks  ol 
the  stream  were  brilliant  with  patches  of  a  creeping  plant, 
with  a  bright  purple  blossom.  The  asphodel  grew  in  great 
profusion,  and  nn  ivy-leaved  shrub,  covered  with  flakes  of  white 
oloom,  made  the  air  faint  with  its  fragrance.  Still  further  up. 
we  came  to  orchards  of  walnut  and  plum  trees,  and  vineyards 
There  were  no  houses,  but  the  iiumbitants,  who  were  mostly 
Turcomans,  live  in  villages  during  the  winter,  and  in  summer 
pitch  their  tents  on  the  mountains  where  they  pasture  their 
flocks.  Directly  over  this  quiet  pastoral  vale  towered  the 
Taurus,  and  I  looked  at  once  on  its  secluded  loveliness  and  on 
the  wintry  heights,  whose  bleak  and  sublime  heads  were 
mantled  in  clouds.  From  no  point  is  there  a  more  imposing 
view  of  the  whole  snowy  range.  Near  the  head  of  the  valley 
we  passed  a  large  Turcoman  encampment,  surrounded  with 
herds  of  sheep  and  cattle. 

We  halted  for  the  evening  at  a  place  called  Kolu-Kushla— 
an  immense  fortress-village,  resembling  Baias,  and  like  it, 
wholly  deserted.  Near  it  there  is  a  small  town  of  very 
neat  houses,  which  is  also  deserted,  the  inhabitants  having 
gone  into  the  mountains  with  their  flocks.  I  walked  througi 


246  THE     LAN  "6     OF     THE     SARACEN. 

the  fortress,  #hich  is  a  massive  building  of  stone,  about  50t 
feet  square,  erected  by  Sultaa  Murad  as  a  restiug-place  for  the 
caravans  to  Mecca.  It  has  two  spacious  portals,  in  which  the 
iron  doors  are  still  hanging,  connected  by  a  vaulted  passage, 
twenty  feet  high  and  forty  wide,  with  bazaars  oil  each  side. 
Side  gateways  open  into  large  courts,  surrounded  with  a-ched 
chambers.  There  is  a  mosque  entire,  with  its  pulpit  and 
galleries,  and  the  gilded  cresceut  still  glittering  over  its  dome 
Behind  it  is  a  bath,  containing  an  entrance  hall  and  half  a 
dozen  chambers,  in  which  the  water-pipes  and  stone  tanks  still 
remain.  With  a  little  alteration,  the  building  would  make  f> 
capital  Phalanstery,  where  the  Fourierites  might  try  theii 
experiment  without  contact  with  Society.  There  is  no  field 
for  them  equal  to  Abia  Minor — a  glorious  region,  abounding  in 
natural  wealth,  almost  depopulated,  and  containing  a  great 
number  of  Phalansteries  ready  built. 

We  succeeded  in  getting  some  eggs,  fowls,  and  milk  from  ar 
old  Turcoman  who  had  charge  of  the  village.  A  man  who 
rode  by  on  a  donkey  sold  us  a  bag  of  yaourt  (sour  milk-curds), 
which  was  delicious,  notwithstanding  the  suspicious  appearance 
of  the  bag.  It  was  made  before  the  cream  had  been  removed, 
and  was  very  rich  and  nourishing.  The  old  Turcoman  sat 
down  and  watched  us  while  we  ate,  but  would  not  join  us,  as 
these  wandering  tribes  are  very  strict  in  keeping  Ramaz;in. 
When  we  had  reached  our  dessert — a  plate  of  fine  cherries — 
another  white-bearded  and  dignified  gentleman  visited  us.  We 
handed  him  the  cherries,  expecting  that  lie  would  take  a  ie\\ 
and  politely  return  the  dish  :  but  no  such  thing.  He  coollj 
produced  his  handkerchief,  emptied  everything  into  it,  and 
marched  off  He  also  did  not  venture  to  eat,  although  we 


THE     PLAIN     OF     KARAMAN'IA.  241 

pointed  to  the  Taurus,  on  whose  upper  snows  the  last  gleam  ol 
daylight  was  just  melting  away. 

We  arose  this  morning  in  a  dark,  cloudy  dawn.  There  waa 
a  heavy  black  storm  hanging  low  in  the  west,  and  another  was 
gathering  its  forces  along  the  mountains  behind  us.  A  cold 
wind  blew  down  the  valley,  and  long  peals  of  thunder  rolled 
graudly  among  the  gorges  of  Taurus.  An  isolated  hill, 
crowned  with  a  shattered  crag  which  bore  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  a  ruined  fortress,  stood  out  black  and  sharp  against 
the  far,  misty,  sunlit  peaks.  As  far  as  the  springs  were  yet 
nndried,  the  land  was  covered  with  flowers.  In  one  place  I 
saw  a  large  square  plot  of  the  most  brilliant  crimson  hue, 
burning  amid  the  green  wheat-fields,  as  if  some  Tyrian  mantle 
had  been  flung  there.  The  long,  harmonious  slopes  and 
rounded  summits  of  the  hills  were  covered  with  drifts  of  a 
beautiful  pnrple  clover,  and  a  diminutive  variety  of  the  achillea, 
or  yarrow,  with  glowing  yellow  blossoms.  The  leaves  had  a 
pleasant  aromatic  odor,  and  filled  the  air  with  their  refreshing 
breath,  as  they  were  crushed  under  the  hoofs  of  our  horses. 

We  had  now  reached  the  highest  ridge  of  the  hilly  country 
along  the  northern  base  of  Taurus,  and  saw,  far  and  wide 
before  us,  the  great  central  plain  of  Karamania.  Two  isolated 
mountains,  at  forty  or  fifty  miles  distance,  broke  the  monotony 
of  the  desert-like  level :  Kara  Dagh  in  the  west,  and  the  snow- 
capped summits  of  Hassan  Dagh  in  the  north-east.  Beyond 
thu  latter,  we  tried  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  famous  Mons 
Argaeus,  at  the  base  of  which  is  Kaisariyeh,  the  ancient  Caesarea 
of  Cappadocia.  This  mountain,  which  is  13,000  feet  high,  ifl 
the  loftiest  peak  of  Asia  Minor.  The  clouds  hung  low  on  the 
horizon,  aud  the  rains  were  falling,  veiling  it  from  our  sight 


248  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

Our  road,  for  the  remainder  of  the  day,  was  jver  barren 
hills,  covered  with  scanty  herbage.  The  sun  shone  out  intense- 
ly hot,  and  the  glare  of  the  white  soil  was  exceedingly  painful 
to  my  eyes.  The  locality  of  Eregli  was  betrayed,  some  time 
before  we  reached  it,  by  its  dark-green  belt  of  fruit  trees  It 
stands  in  the  mouth  of  a  narrow  valley  which  winds  down 
from  the  Taurus,  and  is  watered  by  a  large  rapid  stream  that 
finally  loses  itself  in  the  lakes  and  morasses  of  the  plain. 
There  had  been  a  heavy  black  thunder-cloud  gathering,  and  as 
we  reached  our  camping-ground,  under  some  fine  walnut-trees 
near  the  stream,  a  sudden  blast  of  cold  wind  swept  over  the 
town,  filling  the  air  with  dust.  We  pitched  the  tent  in  all 
haste,  expecting  a  storm,  but  the  rain  finally  passed  to 
the  northward.  We  then  took  a  walk  through  the  town, 
which  is  a  forlorn  place.  A  spacious  khan,  built  apparently 
for  the  Mecca  pilgrims,  is  in  ruins,  but  the  mosque  has  an 
exquisite  minaret,  eighty  feet  high,  and  still  bearing  traces  of 
the  devices,  in  blue  tiles,  which  once  covered  it.  The  shops 
were  mostly  closed,  and  in  those  which  were  still  open  the 
owners  lay  at  full  length  on  their  bellies,  their  faces  gaunl 
with  fasting.  They  seemed  annoyed  at  our  troubling  them, 
even  with  purchases.  One  would  have  thought  that  some 
fearful  pestilence  had  fallen  upon  the  town.  The  cobblers 
only,  who  somewhat  languidly  plied  their  implements,  seamed 
to  retain  a  little  life.  The  few  Jews  and  Armenians  smoked 
their  pipes  in  a  tantalizing  manner,  in  the  very  faces  of  the 
poor  Mussulmans.  We  bought  an  oka  of  excellent  cherries, 
which  we  were  cruel  enough  to  taste  in  the  streets,  before  th« 
hungry  eyes  of  the  suffering  merchants. 

This  evening  the  asses  belonging  to  Ahe  place  were  driven  U 


A    DERVISH.  849 

from  pasture — four  or  five  hundred  iu  all  ;  and  such  a  show  o; 
curious  asinine  specimens  as  I  never  before  beheld.  A  Dervish, 
who  was  with  us  in  Quarantine,  at  Adana,  lias  just  arrived.  He 
had  lost  his  teskere  (passport),  and  on  issuing  forth  purified 
was  cast  into  prison.  Finally  he  found  some  one  who  knew 
him,  and  procured  his  release.  He  had  come  on  foot  to  this 
placf  in  five  days,  suffering  many  privations,  having  been  forty 
eight  hours  without  food.  He  is  bound  to  Kouia,  on  a  pil 
grimage  to  the  tomb  uf  Hazret  Mevlana,  the  founder  of  the 
sect  of  dancing  Dervishes.  We  gave  him  food,  iu  return  for 
which  he  taught  me  the  formula  of  his  prayers.  He  tells  me  J 
should  always  pronounce  the  name  of  Allah  when  my  horse 
stumbles,  or  I  see  a  man  in  danger  of  his  life,  as  the  wor  1  has 
a  saving  power.  Hadji  Youssuf,  who  has  just  been  begging 
for  an  advance  of  twenty  piastres  to  buy  grain  for  his  horses, 
swore  "  by  the  pardon  of  God  "  that  he  would  sell  the  lame 
horse  at  Konia  and  get  a  better  one.  Wf  have  lost  all  confi- 
dence in  the  old  villain's  promises,  but  the  poor  beasts  shall 
not  suffer  for  his  delinquencies. 

Our  tent  is  in  a  charming  spot,  and,  from  without,  makes  a 
picture  to  be  remembered.  The  yellow  illumination  from 
within  strikes  on  the  under  sides  of  the  walnut  boughs,  while 
the  moonlight  silvers  them  from  above.  Beyond  gardens 
where  the  nightingales  are  singing,  the  tall  minaret  of  Eregli 
stands  revealed  in  the  vapory  glow.  The  night  is  too  sweet 
and  balmy  for  sleep,  and  yet  I  must  close  my  eyes  upon  it,  few 
the  hot  plains  of  Karamauia  await  us  to-morrow. 


U* 


THE     LANDS     Of     THE1     SARACJZV. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THR      PLAINS     OF     KARAMANIA. 

rbe  Plata*  of  Karatnama — Afternoon  Heat — A  Well — Volcanic  Phenomena-  Kara 
aounar — A  Grand  Ruined  Khan — Moonlight  Picture — A  Landscape  of  the  Plalnn- 
Mirages— A  Short  Interview— The  Village  of  Ismil— Third  Day  on  the  Plains- 
Approach  to  Konia. 

"  A  weary  waste,  expanding  to  the  skies." — GOLDSMITH. 

KONIA,  Capital  of  Karamania,  Friday,  June  26, 1854. 

FRANCOIS  awoke  us  at  the  break  of  day,  at  Eregli,  as  we 
had  a  journey  of  twelve  hours  before  us.  Passing  through  the 
town,  we  traversed  a  narrow  belt  of  garden  and  orchard  land, 
and  entered  the  great  plain  of  Karamania.  Our  road  led  at 
first  northward  towards  a  range  called  Karadja  Dagh,  and 
then  skirted  its  base  westward.  After  three  hours'  travel  we 
passed  a  village  of  neat,  whitewashed  houses,  which  were 
entirely  deserted,  all  the  inhabitants  having  gone  off  to  the 
mountains.  There  were  some  herds  scattered  over  the  plain, 
near  the  village.  As  the  day  wore  on,  the  wind,  which  had 
been  chill  in  the  morning,  ceased,  and  the  air  became  hot  and 
sultry.  The  glare  from  the  white  soil  was  so  painful  ihat  1 
was  obliged  to  close  my  eyes,  and  so  ran  a  continual  risk  of 
falling  asleep  and  tumbling  from  my  horse.  Thus,  drowsy  and 
hall'  unconscious  of  rny  whereabouts,  T  rode  on  in  the  heat  anc 


VOLCANIC    PUENOMKNA.  351 

arid  silence  of  the  plain  until  noon,  when  we  reached  a  well 
It  was  a  shaft,  sunk  about  thirty  feet  deep,  with  a  long,  slop 
Ing  gallery  slanting  off  to  the  surface.  The  well  was  nearly 
dry,  but  by  descending  the  gallery  we  obtained  a  sufficient 
supply  of  cold,  pure  water.  We  breakfasted  in  the  shaded 
doorway,  sharing  our  provisions  with  a  Turcoman  boy,  whc 
was  accompanying  his  father  to  Eregli  with  a  load  of  salt 

Our  road  now  crossed  a  long,  barren  pass,  between  two 
parts  of  Karadja  Dagh.  Near  the  northern  side  there  was  a 
salt  lake  of  one  hundred  yards  in  diameter,  sunk  in  a  deep 
uatural  basin.  The  water  was  intensely  saline.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  road,  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  is  an  extinct 
volcano,  the  crater  of  which,  near  two  hundred  feet  deep,  is  a 
salt  lake,  with  a  trachytic  cone  three  hundred  feet  high  rising 
from  the  centre.  From  the  slope  of  the  mountain  we  over- 
looked another  and  somewhat  deeper  plain,  extending  to  the 
north  and  west.  It  was  bounded  by  broken  peaks,  all  of 

which  betrayed  a  volcanic  origin.     Far  before  as  we  saw  the, 

• 
tower  on  the  hill  of  Kara-bouuar,   our  resting-place  for  the 

night.  The  road  thither  was  over  a  barren  plain,  cheered  here 
and  there  by  patches  of  a  cushion-like  plant,  which  was  covered 
with  pink  blossoms.  Mr.  Harrison  scared  up  some  coveys  of 
the  fraukolin,  a  large  bird  resembling  the  pheasant,  and 
enriched  our  larder  with  a  dozen  starlings. 

Kara-bouuar  is  built  on  the  slope  of  a  mound,  at  the  foot  of 
which  stands  a  spacious  mosque,  visible  far  over  the  plain.  It 
has  a  dome,  and  t\vo  tall,  pencil-like  towers,  similar  to  those  of 
the  Citadel-mosque  of  Cairo.  Xear  it  are  tne  remains  of  a 
magnificent  khan-fortress,  said  to  nave  oeen  ouilt  by  we  eunuch 
of  one  of  the  former  Suit;ms.  As  tnere  was  no  water  in  th* 


252  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

wells  outside  of  the  town,  we  eutered  the  khan  and  pitched  Uu 
tent  in  its  grass-grown  court  Six  square  pillars  of  hewn  stone 
made  an  aisle  to  our  door,  and  the  lofty,  roofless  walls  of  the 
court,  100  by  150  feet,  inclosed  us.  Another  court,  of  similai 
size,  communicated  with  it  by  a  broad  portal,  and  the  remains 
of  baths  and  bazaars  lay  beyond.  A  handsome  stone  fountain, 
with  two  streams  of  running  water,  stood  in  front  of  the  khan 
We  were  royally  lodged,  but  almost  starved  in  our  splendor, 
as  only  two  or'  three  Turcomans  remained  out  of  two  thousand 
(who  had  gone  off  with  their  herds  to  the  mountains),  and  they 
were  unable  to  furnish  us  with  provisions.  But  for  our  franko- 
lius  and  starlings  we  should  have  gone  fasting. 

The  mosque  was  a  beautiful  structure  of  white  limestone, 
and  the  galleries  of  its  minarets  were  adorned  with  rich  ara- 
besque ornaments.  While  the  muezzin  was  crying  his  sunset 
call  to  prayer,  I  entered  the  portico  and  looked  into  the  inte 
dor,  which  was  so  bare  as  to  appear  incomplete.  As  we  sat 
in  our  palace-court,  after  dinner,  the  moon  arose,  lighting  up 
the  niches  in  the  walls,  the  clusters  of  windows  in  the  immense 
eastern  gable,  and  the  rows  of  massive  columns.  The  large 
dimensions  of  the  building  gave  it  a  truly  grand  effect,  and  but 
for  the  whine  of  a  distant  jackal  I  could  have  believed  that  we 
were  sitting  in  the  aisles  of  a  roofless  Gotiuc  cathedral,  in  the 
'leart  of  Europe.  Francois  was  somewhat  fearful  of  thieves 
out  the  peace  and  repose  of  the  place  were  so  perfect  that  1 
would  not  allow  any  such  apprehensions  to  disturb  me.  In 
two  minutes  after  I  touched  my  bed  I  was  insensible,  and  I  did 
Dot  move  a  limb  until  sunrise. 

Beyond  Kara-bounar,  there  is  a  low,  barren  ridge,  climbing 
which,  we  overlooked  an  immense  plain,  uncultivated,  appa- 


MIRAGES.  253 

rently  unfertile,  and  without  a  sign  of  life  as  far  as  the  eyt 
could  reach.  Kara  Dagh,  in  the  south,  lifted  nearer  us  its  cluster 
of  dark  summits  ;  to  the  north,  the  long  ridge  of  Usedjik  Dagh 
(the  Pigmy  Mountain)  stretched  like  a  cape  into  the  plain  ; 
Hassan  Dagh,  wrapped  in  a  soft  white  cloud,  receded  behind 
us,  and  the  snows  of  Taurus  seemed  almost  as  distant  as  when 
we  first  beheld  them  from  the  Syrian  Gates.  We  rode  for  four 
hours  over  the  dead  level,  the  only  objects  that  met  our  eyes 
being  an  occasional  herd  of  camels  in  the  distance.  About 
noon,  we  reached  a  well,  similar  to  that  of  the  previous  day, 
but  of  recent  construction.  A  long,  steep  gallery  led  down  to 
the  water,  which  was  very  cold,  but  had  a  villainous  taste  of 
lime,  salt,  and  sulphur. 

After  an  hour's  halt,  we  started  again.  The  sun  was 
intensely  hot,  and  for  hours  we  jogged  on  over  the  dead  level, 
the  bare  white  soil  blinding  our  eyes  with  its  glare.  The  dis- 
tant hills  were  lifted  above  the  horizon  by  a  mirage.  Long 
sheets  of  blue  water  were  spread  along  their  bases,  islanding 
the  isolated  peaks,  and  turning  into  ships  and  boats  the  black 
specks  of  camels  far  away.  But  the  phenomena  were  by  no 
means  on  so  grand  a  scale  as  I  had  seen  in  the  Nubian  Desert. 
On  the  south-western  horizon,  we  discerned  the  summits  of  the 
Karaman  range  of  Taurus,  covered  with  snow.  In  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon,  we  saw  a  solitary  tent  upon  the  plain,  from 
which  an  individual  advanced  to  meet  as.  As  he  drew  nearer 
we  noticed  that  he  wore  white  Frank  pantaloons,  similar  to  the 
Turkish  soldiery,  with  a  jacket  of  brown  cloth,  and  a  heavj 
sabre.  When  he  was  within  convenient  speaking  distance,  li€ 
cried  out :  "  Stop  '  why  are  you  running  away  from  me  ?'' 
''  What  do  yon  call  running  away  ?''  rejoined  Francois  ;  "  we 


254  THK  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

are  going  on  our  journey."  "  Where  do  you  couie  from  ?"  he 
then  asked.  "  From  there,"  said  Fraugois,  pointing  behind  us 
"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  "  There  1"  and  the  provoking  Greek 
simply  pointed  forwards.  "  You  have  neither  faith  nor  reli- 
gion !"  said  the  man,  indignantly ;  then,  turning  upon  his  heel, 
he  strode  back  across  the  plaiu. 

About  four  o'clock,  we  saw  a  long  Hue  of  objects  rising 
before  us,  but  so  distorted  by  the  mirage  that  it  was  impossible 
to  know  what  they  were.  After  a  while,  however,  we  decided 
that  they  were  houses  interspersed  with  trees  ;  but  the  trees 
proved  to  be  stacks  of  hay  and  lentils,  heaped  on  the  flat  roofs 
This  was  Ismil,  our  halting-place.  The  houses  were  miserable 
mud  huts  ;  but  the  village  was  large,  and,  unlike  most  of  those 
we  have  seen  this  side  of  Taurus,  inhabited.  The  people  are 
Turcomans,  and  their  possessions  appear  to  be  almost  entirely 
in  their  herds.  Immense  numbers  of  sheep  and  goats  were 
pasturing  on  the  plain.  .There  were  several  wells  in  the  place, 
provided  with  buckets  attached  to  long  swing-poles  ;  the  water 
was  very  cold,  but  brackish.  Our  tent  was  pitched  on  the 
plain,  on  a  hard,  gravelly  strip  of  soil.  A  crowd  of  wild-haired 
Turcoman  boys  gathered  in  front,  to  stare  at  us,  and  the  shep- 
herds quarrelled  at  the  wells,  as  to  which  should  take  his  turu 
at  watering  his  flocks.  In  the  e\euing  a  handsome  old  Turk 
visited  us,  and,  finding  that  we  were  bound  to  Constantinople, 
requested  Franjois  to  take  a  letter  to  his  son,  who  was  settled 
there. 

Francois  aroused  us  this  morning  before  the  dawn,  as  we 
had  a  journey  of  thirty-five  miles  before  us.  He  was  in  a  bad 
humor  ;  for  a  man,  whom  he  had  requested  to  keep  watch  ovei 
'«us  tent,  while  he  went  into  the  village,  had  stolen  a  fork  and 


APPROACH    TO    RONIA,  255 

spoon.  The  old  Tark,  who  had  returned  as  soon  as  we  wew 
stirring,  went  out  to  hunt  the  thief,  but  did  not  succeed  in 
finding  him.  The  inhabitants  of  the  village  were  up  long 
before  sunrise,  and  driving  away  in  their  wooden-wheeled  carts 
to  the  meadows  where  they  cut  grass.  The  old  Turk  accom 
panied  us  some  distance,  in  order  to  show  ns  a  nearer  way, 
avoiding  a  marshy  spot.  Our  road  lay  over  a  vast  plain,  seem- 
ingly boundless,  for  the  lofty  mountain-ranges  that  surrounded 
it  on  all  sides  were  so  distant  and  cloud-like,  and  so  lifted  from 
the  horizon  by  the  deceptive  mirage,  that  the  eye  did  not 
recognize  their  connection  with  it.  The  wind  blew  strongly 
from  the  north-west,  and  was  so  cold  that  I  dismounted  and 
walked  ahead  for  two  or  three  hours. 

Before  noon,  we  passed  two  villages  of  mud  huts,  partly 
inhabited,  and  with  some  wheat-fields  around  them.  We 
breakfasted  at  another  well,  which  furnished  us  with  a  drink 
that  tasted  like  iced  sea-water.  Thence  we  rode  forth  again 
into  the  heat,  for  the  wind  had  fallen  by  this  time,  and  the  sun 
ehone  out  with  great  force.  There  was  ever  the  same  dead 
level,  and  we  rode  directly  towards  the  mountains,  which,  to 
ray  eyes,  seemed  nearly  as  distant  as  ever  At  last,  there  was 
a  dark  glimmer  through  the  mirage,  at  their  base,  and  a  half- 
hour's  ride  showed  it  to  be  a  line  of  trees.  In  another  hour, 
we  could  distinguish  a  minaret  or  two,  and  finally,  walls  and 
the  atate.y  domes  of  mosques.  This  was  Konia,  the  andeu* 
loouium,  one  of  the  most  renowned  cities  of  Asia  Minor. 


S56  /HE     uANDS     OF     THE     SARACKft 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SCENES    IN    KONIA 


&ppro*ch  to  Konia  —  i'omb  of  Hazret  Mevlana  —  Lodgings  in  a  Khan  —  An 
Luxury  —  A  Night-Scene  in  Ramazan  —  Prayers  In  the  Mosque  —  Romaics  of  th4 
Ancient  City  —  View  from  the  Mosque  —  The  Interior  —  A  Leaning  Minaret  —  Tb 
Diverting  History  of  the  Muleteers. 

"  But  they  shook  off  the  dust  01  their  feet,  and  came  unto  Iconiura."  —  ACTS,  xm.  61 

KONIA  (Ancient  Iconium),  June  2T,  1852. 

THE  view  of  Konia  from  the  plain  is  not  striking  until  one  has 
approached  within  a  mile  of  the  suburbs,  when  the  group  of 
mosques,  with  their  heavy  central  domes  lifted  on  clusters  of 
smaller  ones,  and  their  tall,  light,  glittering  minarets,  rising 
above  the  foliage  of  the  gardens,  against  the  background  of 
airy  hills,  has  a  very  pleasing  effect.  We  approached  through 
a  long  line  of  dirty  suburbs,  which  looked  still  more  forlorn  on 
account  of  the  Ramazan.  Some  Turkish  officials,  in  shabby 
Frank  dresses,  followed  us  to  satisfy  their  curiosity  by  talkiug 
with  our  Katurjees,  or  muleteers.  Outside  the  city  walls,  we 
passed  some  very  large  barracks  for  cavalry,  built  by  Ibrahim 
Pasha.  On  the  plain  north-east  of  the  city,  the  battle  between 
him  and  the  forces  of  the  Sultan,  resulting  in  the  defeat  of  the 
»tter,  was  fought. 

We  next  came  upon  two  magnificent  mosques,  built  of  whitf 


THE  TOMB  OF  HAZRET  MEVLANA.  251 

limestone,  with  a  multitude  of  leaden  domes  and  *ofty  minarets, 
•adorned  with  galleries  rich  in  arabesque  ornaments.  Attached 
to  one  of  them  is  the  tomb  of  Hazret  Mevlana,  the  founder  of 
the  sect  of  Mevlevi  Dervishes,  which  is  reputed  one  of  the 
most  sacred  places  in  the  East.  The  tomb  is  surmounted  by  a 
tlome,  upon  which  stands  a  tall  cylindrical  tower,  reeded,  with 
channels  between  each  projection,  and  terminating  in  a  long, 
tapering  cone.  This  tower  is  made  of  glazed  tiles,  of  the  most 
brilliant  sea-blue  color,  and  sparkles  in  the  sun  like  a  vast  pillar 
of  icy  spar  in  some  Polar  grotto.  It  is  a  most  striking  and 
fantastic  object,  surrounded  by  a  cluster  of  minarets  and  several 
cypress-trees,  amid  which  it  seems  placed  as  the  central  orna- 
ment and  crown  of  the  group. 

The  aspect  of  the  city  was  so  filthy  and  uninviting  that  we 
preferred  pitching  our  tent ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  find  a 
place  without  going  back  upon  the  plain  ;  so  we  turned  into 
the  bazaar,  and  asked  the  way  to  a  khan.  There  was  a  toler- 
able crowd  in  the  street,  although  many  of  the  shops  were  shut. 
The  first  khan  we  visited  was  too  filthy  to  enter  ;  but  the 
second,  though  most  unpromising  in  appearance,  turned  out  to 
be  better  than  it  looked.  The  oda-bashi  (master  of  the  rooms) 
thoroughly  swept  and  sprinkled  the  narrow  little  chamber  he 
gave  us,  laid  clean  mats  upon  the  floor,  and,  when  our  carpets 
and  beds  were  placed  within,  its  walls  of  mud  looked  somewhat 
comfortable.  Its  single  window,  with  an  iron  grating  iu  lieu  of 
glass,  looked  upon  an  oblong  court,  on  the  second  story,  sur 
rounded  by  the  rooms  of  Armenian  merchants.  The  main 
court  (the  gate  of  which  is  always  closed  at  sunset)  is  two 
stories  in  height,  with  a  rough  wooden  balcony  running  around 
It,  and  a  well  of  muddy  water  in  the  centre. 


258  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEV. 

The  oda-bashi  lent  us  a  Turkish  table  aud  supplied  us  with 
dinner  from  his  own  kitchen;  kibabs,  stewed  beans,  and  cucom 
ber  salad.  Mr.  H,  and  I,  forgetting  the  Ramazan,  went  Out 
to  hunt  foi  an  iced  sherbet;  but  all  the  coffee-shops  were  closed 
until  sunset.  The  people  stared  at  our  Egyptian  costumes, 
and  a  fellow  in  official  dress  demanded  my  teska  e.  Soon  after 
we  returned,  Francois  appeared  with  a  splendid  lump  of  ice  in 
A  basin  and  some  lemons.  The  ice,  so  the  khangee.  said,  is 
taken  from  a  lake  among  the  mountains,  which  in  winter 
freezes  to  the  thickness  of  a  foot.  Behind  the  lake  is  a  natural 
cavern,  which  the  people  fill  with  ice,  and  then  close  up.  At 
this  season  they  take  it  out,  day  by  day,  and  bring  it  down  to 
the  city.  It  is  very  pure  and  thick,  and  justifies  the  Turkish 
proverb  in  regard  to  Konia,  which  is  celebrated  for  three 
excellent  things  :  "  dooz,  booz,  kuz  " — salt,  ice,  and  girls. 

Soon  after  sunset,  a  cannon  announced  the  close  of  the  tast. 
We  waited  an  hour  or  two  longer,  to  allow  the  people  time  to 
eat,  and  then  sallied  out  into  the  streets.  Every  minaret  in 
the  city  blazed  with  a  crown  of  lighted  lamps  around  its  upper 
gallery,  while  the  long  shafts  below,  and  the  tapering  cones 
above,  topped  with  brazen  crescents,  shone  fair  in  the  moon- 
light. It  was  a  strange,  brilliant  spectacle.  In  the  square 
before  the  principal  mosque  we  found  a  crowd  of  persons 
frolicking  around  the  fountain,  in  the  light  of  a  number  of 
torches  on  poles  planted  in  the  ground.  Mats  were  spread  on 
the  stones,  aud  rows  of  Turks  of  all  classes  sat  thereon,  smok 
ing  their  pipes.  Large  earthea  water-jars  stood  here  aud  there, 
and  the  people  drank  so  often  and  so  long  that  they  seemed 
determined  to  provide  against  the  morrow.  The  boys  were 
having  their  amusement  in  wrcst'ing,  shouting  and  'iriiuf  off 


A    NIGHT-SCEHE    IN    RAMAZAN.  868 

aquibs,  which  they  threw  into  the  crowd.  We  kicked  off  om 
slippers,  sat  down  among  the  Turks,  smoked  a  narghileh 
drank  a  cup  of  coffee  and  an  iced  sherbet  of  raisin  juice,  and  « 
enjoyed  the  Ramazan  as  well  as  the  best  of  them. 

Numbers  of  True  Believers  were  drinking  and  washing  them 
selves  at  the  picturesque  fountain,  and  just  as  we  rose  tc 
depart,  the  voice  of  a  boy-muezzin,  on  one  of  the  tallest  mina- 
rets, sent  down  a  musical  call  to  prayer.  Immediately  the  boys 
left  off  their  sports  and  started  on  a  run  for  the  great  mosque, 
and  the  grave,  gray-bearded  Turks  got  up  from  the  mats, 
shoved  on  their  slippers,  and  marched  after  them.  We  fol 
lowed,  getting  a  glimpse  of  the  illuminated  interior  of  the 
building,  as  we  passed;  but  the  oda-bashi  conducted  us  still 
further,  to  a  smaller  though  more  beautiful  mosque,  surrounded 
with  a  garden-court.  It  was  a  truly  magical  picture.  We 
entered  the  gate,  and  passed  on  by  a  marble  pavement,  under 
trees  and  arbors  of  vines  that  almost  shut  out  the  moonlight, 
to  a  paved  space,  in  the  centre  whereof  was  a  beautiful  foun- 
tain, in  the  purest  Saracenic  style.  Its  heavy,  projecting  cor- 
nices and  tall  pyramidal  roof  rested  on  a  circle  of  elegant 
irches,  surrounding  a  marble  structure,  whence  the  water 
gushed  forth  in  a  dozen  sparkling  streams.  On  three  sides  it 
was  inclosed  by  the  moonlit  trees  and  arbors  ;  on  the  fourth 
by  the  outer  corridor  of  the  mosque,  the  door  of  entrance  being 
txactly  opposite. 

Large  numbers  of  persons  were  washing  their  hands  and  feet 
at  the  fountain,  after  which  they  entered  and  knelt  on  the 
floor.  We  stood  unobserved  in  the  corridor,  and  looked  in  on 
the  splendidly  illuminated  interior  and  the  crowd  at  prayer,  aT 
bending  their  bodies  to  the  earth  at  regular  intervals  and  mnr 


260  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

muring  the  name  of  Allah.  They  resembled  a  plain  of  recde 
bending  before  the  gusts  of  wind  which  precede  a  storm 
When  all  had  entered  and  were  united  in  solemn  prayer,  we 
returned,  passing  the  grand  mosque.  I  stole  up  to  the  doot; 
lifted  the  heavy  carpet  that  hung  before  it,  and  looked  in. 
There  was  a  Mevlevi  Dervish  standing  in  the  entrance,  but  hie 
eyes  were  lifted  in  neavenly  abstraction,  and  he  did  not  see  me. 
The  interior  was  brilliantly  lit  by  white  and  colored  lamps, 
suspended  from  the  walls  and  the  great  central  dome.  It  was 
an  imposing  structure,  simple  in  form,  yet  grand  from  its 
dimensions.  The  floor  was  covered  with  kneeling  figures,  and 
a  deep  voice,  coming  from  the  other  end  of  the  mosque,  was 
uttering  pious  phrases  in  a  kind  of  chant.  I  satisfied  my  curi- 
osity quickly,  and  we  then  returned  to  the  khan. 

Yesterday  afternoon  I  made  a  more  thorough  examination 
of  the  city.  Passing  through  the  bazaars,  I  reached  the  Serai, 
or  Pasha's  Palace,  which  stands  on  the  site  of  that  of  the  Sul- 
tans of  loonium.  It  is  a  long,  wooden  building,  with  no  pre- 
tensions to  architectural  beauty.  Near  it  there  is  a  large  and 
ancient  mosque,  with  a  minaret  of  singular  elegance.  It  is 
about  1 20  feet  high,  with  two  hanging  galleries  ;  the  whole 
built  of  blue  and  red  bricks,  the  latter  projecting  so  as  to 
form  quaint  patterns  or  designs.  Several  ancient  buildings 
near  this  mosque  are  surmounted  with  pyramidal  towers, 
resembling  Pagodas  of  India.  Following  the  long,  crooked 
lanes  between  mud  buildings,  we  passed  these  curious  struc- 
tures and  reached  the  ancient  wall  of  the  city.  In  one 
of  the  streets  lay  a  marble  lion,  badly  executed,  and  appa- 
rently of  the  time  of  the  Lower  Empire.  In  the  wall  were 
Inserted  many  similar  figures,  with  fragments  of  friezes  and 


VIEW     FROM     THE     MOSQTTE.  2(51 

cornices.  This  is  the  work  of  the  Seljook  Kings,  who,  in  build 
ing  the  wall,  took  great  pains  to  exhibit  the  fragments  of  the 
ancient  city.  The  number  of  altars  they  have  preserved  is 
quite  remarkable.  On  the  square  towers  are  sunken  tablets, 
containing  long  Arabic  inscriptions. 

The  high  walls  of  a  ruined  building  in  the  southern  part  of 
the  city  attracted  us,  and  on  going  thither  we  found  it  *o  be 
an  ancient  mosque,  standing  on  an  eminence  formed  apparently 
of  the  debris  of  other  buildings.  Part  of  the  wall  was  alsc 
ancient,  and  in  some  places  showed  the  marks  of  an  earth 
quake.  A  long  flight  of  steps  led  up  to  the  door  of  the 
mosque,  and  as  we  ascended  we  were  rewarded  by  the  most 
charming  view  of  the  city  and  the  grand  plain.  Konia  lay  at 
our  feet — a  wide,  straggling  array  of  low  mud  dwellings, 
dotted  all  over  with  patches  of  garden  verdure,  while  its  three 
superb  mosques,  with  the  many  smaller  tombs  and  places  of 
worship,  appeared  like  buildings  left  from  some  former  and 
more  magnificent  capital  Outside  of  this  circle  ran  a  belt  of 
garden  land,  adorned  with  groves  and  long  lines  of  fruit  trees  ; 
Btill  further,  the  plain,  a  sea  of  faded  green,  flecked  with  the 
softest  cloud-shadows,  and  beyond  all,  the  beautiful  outlines 
and  dreamy  tints  of  the  different  mountain  chains.  It  was  in 
every  respect  a  lovely  landscape,  and  the  city  is  unworthy 
such  surroundings.  The  sky,  which  in  this  region  is  of  a  pale, 
soft,  delicious  blue,  was  dotted  with  scattered  fleeces  of  whit€ 
clouds,  and  there  was  an  exquisite  play  of  light  and  shade  over 
the  hills. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  men  and  boys  about  the  door, 
amusing  themselves  with  bursting  percussion  caps  on  the 
stone.  They  addressed  us  as  "hadn!"  (pilgrims),  begging 


262  THE  LANDS  0?  THE  SARACEN. 

for  more  caps.  I  told  them  I  was  not  a  Turk,  bat  an  Arab 
which  they  believed  at  once,  and  requested  me  to  enter  the 
mosque.  The  interior  had  a  remarkably  fine  effect.  It  was  » 
maze  of  arches,  supported  by  columns  of  polished  black  mar- 
ble, forty  in  number.  In'  form  it  was  nearly  square,  and 
covered  with  a  flat,  wooden  roof.  The  floor  was  covered  with 
a  carpet,  whereon  several  persons  were  lying  at  full  length, 
while  an  old  man,  seated  in  one  of  the  most  remote  corners, 
wab  reading  in  a  loud,  solemn  voice.  It  is  a  peculiar  struc- 
ture, which  I  should  be  glad  to  examine  more  in  detail. 

Not  far  from  this  eminence  is  a  remarkable  leaning  minaret, 
more  than  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  while  in  diameter  it  can- 
not be  more  than  fifteen  feet.  In  design  it  is  light  and  ele- 
gant, and  the  effect  is  not  injured  by  its  deviation  from  the 
perpendicular,  which  I  should  judge  to  be  about  six  feet. 
From  the  mosque  we  walked  over  the  mounds  of  old  Iconium 
to  the  eastern  wall,  passing  another  mosque,  wholly  in  ruin, 
but  which  must  have  once  been  more  splendid  than  any  now 
standing.  The  portal  is  the  richest  specimen  of  Saracenic 
sculpture  I  have  ever  seen  :  a  very  labyrinth  of  intricate  orna- 
ments. The  artist  must  have  seen  the  great  portal  of  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Baalbec.  The  minarets  have  tumbled 
down,  the  roof  has  fallen  in,  but  the  walls  are  still  covered 
with  white  and  blue  tiles,  of  the  finest  workmanship,  resembling 
a  mosaic  of  ivory  and  lapis  lazuli.  Some  of  the  chambers 
seem  to  be  inhabited,  for  two  old  men  with  white  beards  lay 
in  the  shade,  and  were  cot  a  little  startled  by  oar  suddei 
appearance. 

We  returned  to  the  great  mosque,  which  we  had  visited  on  th« 
evening  of  our  arrival,  and  listened  for  some  time  to  the  voie« 


fHE     MULETEEK3.  463 

jf  a  mollah  who  was  preaching  an  afternoon  sermou  to  a  small 
and  hungry  congregation.  We  then  entered  the  court  before 
the  tomb  of  Hazret  Mevlana.  It  was  apparently  forbidder 
ground  to  Christians,  but  as  the  Dervishes  did  not  seea  to  sus- 
pect us  we  walked  about  boldly,  and  were  about  to  enter,  whet 
an  indiscretion  of  my  companion  frustrated  our  plans.  For 
getting  his  assumed  character,  he  went  to  the  fountain  and 
drank,  although  it  was  no  later  than  the  asser,  or  afternoon 
prayer.  The  De-rvishes  were  shocked  and  scandalized  by  this 
violation  of  the  fast,  in  the  very  court-yard  of  their  holiest 
mosque,  and  we  judged  it  best  to  retire  by  degrees.  We  sent 
this  morning  to  request  an  interview  with  the  Pasha,  but  he 
had  gone  to  pass  the  day  in  a  country  palace,  about  three 
hours  distant.  It  is  a  still,  hot,  bright  afternoon,  and  the 
silence  of  the  famished  populace  disposes  us  to  repose.  Our 
riew  is  bounded  by  the  mud  walls  of  the  khan,  and  I  already 
long  for  the  freedom  of  the  great  Karamanian  Plain.  Here, 
in  the  heart  of  Asia  Minor,  all  life  seems  to  stagnate.  There 
is  sleep  everywhere,  and  I  feel  that  a  wide  barrier  separates 
me  from  the  living  world. 

We  have  been  detained  here  a  whole  day,  through  a  chain 
of  accidents,  all  resulting  from  the  rascality  of  our  muleteers 
on  leaving  Aleppo.  The  lame  horse  they  palmed  upon  us  was 
inable  to  go  further,  so  we  obliged  them  to  buy  another  ani- 
mal, which  they  succeeded  in  getting  for  350  piastres.  We 
advanced  the  money,  although  they  were  still  in  our  debt, 
hoping  to  work  our  way  through  with  the  new  horse,  and  thai 
ivoid  the  risk  of  loss  or  delay  But  this  morning  at  sunrise 
Hadji  Youssuf  comes  with  a  woeful  face  to  say  that  the  new 
horse  has  been  stolen  in  the  night,  and  we,  who  are  ready  tc 


264  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

start,  must  sit  down  and  wait  till  he  is  recovered.  I  suspected 
another  trick,  but  when,  after  the  lapse  of  three  hours,  Fran 
c,ois  found  the  hadji  sitting  on  the  ground,  weeping,  and  Achmet 
beating  his  breast,  it  seemed  probable  that  the  story  was  true. 
All  search  for  the  horse  being  vain,  Frangois  went  with  them 
to  the  shekh  of  the  horses,  who  promised,  in  case  it  should 
hereafter  be  found,  to  place  it  in  the  general  pen,  where  they 
would  be  sure  to  get  it  on  their  return.  The  man  who  sold 
them  the  horse  offered  them  another  for  the  lame  one  and  150 
piastres,  and  there  was  no  other  alternative  but  to  accept  it. 
But  we  must  advance  the  150  piastres,  and  so,  in  mid-journey, 
we  have  already  paid  them  to  the  end,  with  the  risk  of  their 
horses  breaking  down  or  they,  horses  and  all,  absconding  from 
us.  But  the  knavish  varlets  are  hardly  bold  enough  tor  such 
i  climax  of  villany. 


SCBNKBT    OF    THE    HELLS.  2Go 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE    HEART    OF    ASIA    MINOR. 

>necety  -I  »*«  Hills— Ladik,  the  Ancient  Laodicea— The  Plague  of  Gad-Flies— Clamp  at 
Ilgiiu — A  natural  Warm  Bath — The  Gad-Flies  Again — A  Summer  Landscape— Ak 
gheher — ihe  Base  of  Sultan  Dagh — The  Fountain  of  Midas — A  Drowsy  Journey— 
the  Town  of  Bolawadfln. 

"  By  the  forests,  lakes,  and  fountains, 
Though  the  many-folded  mountains."  SHBLUY. 

BOLAWADCH,  July  1, 1869. 

OUR  men  brought  all  the  beasts  into  the  court-yard  of  the 
khan  at  Konia,  the  evening  before  our  departure,  so  that  no 
more  were  stolen  during  the  night.  The  oda-bashi,  indefatiga- 
ble to  the  last  in  his  attention  to  us,  not  only  helped  load 
the  mules  but  accompanied  us  some  distance  on  our  way.  All 
the  merchants  in  the  khan  collected  in  the  gallery  to  see  us 
start,  and  we  made  our  exit  in  some  state.  The  morning  was 
clear,  fresh,  and  delightful.  Turning  away  from  the  city  walls, 
we  soon  emerged  from  the  lines  of  fruit-trees  and  interminable 
fields  of  tomb-stones,  and  came  out  upon  the  great  bare  plain 
of  Karamania.  A  ride  of  three  hours  brought  us  to  a  long, 
sloping  hill,  which  gave  us  a  view  of  the  whole  plain,  and  it# 
circuit  of  mountains.  A  dark  line  in  the  distance  marked  the 
gardens  of  Konia.  On  the  right,  near  the  centre  of  the  plain, 

12 


266  TI1K  LANDS  OF  THK  8ARACKN. 

the  lake,  now  contracted  to  very  narrow  limits,  glimmered  in 
the  sun.  Notwithstanding  the  waste  and  unfertile  appearance 
of  the  country,  the  soft,  sweet  sky  that  hangs  over  it,  the 
pore,  transparent  air,  the  grand  sweep  of  the  plain,  and  the 
varied  forms  of  the  different  mountain  chains  that  encompass 
it,  make  our  journey  an  inspiring  one.  A  descent  of  the  hills 
soon  shut  out  the  view  ;  and  the  rest  of  the  day's  journey  lay 
among  them,  skirting  the  eastern  base  of  Allah  Dagh. 

The  country  improved  in  character,  as  we  advanced.  The 
bottoms  of  the  dry  glens  were  covered  with  wheat,  and  shrub- 
bery began  to  make  its  appearance  on  the  mountain-sides  lu 
the  afternoon,  we  crossed  a  watershed,  dividing  Karamania 
from  the  great  central  plain  of  Asia  Minor,  and  descended  to  a 
village  called  Ladik,  occupying  the  site  of  the  ancient  Laodi- 
cea,  at  the  foot  of  A.llah  Dagh.  The  plain  upon  which  we  came 
was  greener  and  more  flourishing  than  that  we  had  left.  Trees 
were  scattered  here  and  there  in  clumps,  and  the  grassy  wastes, 
stretching  beyond  the  grain-fields,  were  dotted  with  herds  of 
cattle.  Emir  Dagh  stood  in  the  north-west,  blue  and  distant 
while,  towards  the  north  and  north-east,  the  plain  extended  tc 
the  horizon — a  horizon  fifty  miles  distant — without  a  break 
In  that  direction  lay  the  great  salt  lake  of  Yiizler,  and  the 
strings  of  camels  we  met  on  the  road,  laden  with  salt,  were 
returning  from  it.  Ladik  is  surrounded  with  poppy-fields,  bril 
liant  with  white  and  purple  blossoms.  When  the  petals  have 
fallen,  the  natives  go  carefully  over  the  whole  field  and  make 
inoisiofis  in  every  stalk,  whence  the  opium  exudes. 

We  pitched  our  tent  under  a  large  walnut  tree,  which  we 
found  standing  in  a  deserted  inclosure.  The  graveyard  of  the 
village  is  studded  with  relics  of  the  ancient  town.  There  art 


THE    ANCIENT    LAODICKA.  261 

pillars,  cornices,  entablatures,  jambs,  altars,  mullious  ami; 
sculptured  tablets,  all  of  white  marble,  and  many  of  them  ip 
an  excellent  state  of  preservation.  They  appear  to  date  from 
ihe  early  time  of  the  Lower  Empire,  and  the  cross  has  not  yet 
been  effaced  from  some  which  serve  as  head-stones  for  the  Truo 
Believers.  I  was  particularly  struck  with  the  abundance  of 
altars,  some  of  which  contained  entire  and  legible  inscriptions. 
In  the  town  there  is  the  same  abundance  of  ruins.  The  lid 
of  a  sarcophagus,  formed  of  a  single  block  of  marble,  now 
serves  as  a  water-trough,  and  the  fountain  is  constructed  of 
ancient  tablets.  The  town  stands  on  a  mound  which  appears 
to  be  composed  entirely  of  the  debris  of  the  former  place,  and 
near  the  summit  there  are  many  holes  which  the  inhabitants 
have  dug  in  their  search  for  rings,  seals  and  other  relics. 

The  next  day  we  made  a  journey  of  nine  hours  over  a  hilly 
country  lying  between  the  ranges  of  Allah  Dagh  and  Emir 
Dagh.  There  were  wells  of  excellent  water  along  the  road,  at 
intervals  of  an  hour  or  two.  The  day  was  excessively  hot  and 
sultry  during  the  noon  hours,  and  the  flies  were  so  bad  as  to 
give  great  inconvenience  to  our  horses.  The  animal  I  bestrode 
kicked  so  incessantly  that  I  could  scarcely  keep  my  seat.  His 
belly  was  swollen  and  covered  with  clotted  blood,  from  their 
bites.  The  hadji's  mule  began  to  show  symptoms  of  illness, 
and  we  had  great  difficulty  in  keeping  it  on  its  legs.  Mr. 
Harrison  bled  it  in  the  mouth,  as  a  last  resource,  and  during 
the  afternoon  it  partly  recovered. 

An  hour  before  sunset  we  reached  Ilgiin,  a  town  on  the 
plain,  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  spurs  of  Emir  Dagh.  To  the 
west  of  it  there  is  a  lake  of  considerable  size,  which  receives 
»he  streams  that  flow  thronjrh  the  town  and  water  its  fertiU 


268  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

gaidens.  We  passed  through  the  town  and  pitched  our  tent 
upon  a  beautiful  grassy  meadow.  Our  customary  pipe  of 
refreshment  was  never  moi  e  heartily  enjoyed  than  at  this  place. 
Behind  us  was  a  barren  hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  was  a  natural 
hot  bath,  wherein  a  number  of  women  and  children  were 
amusing  themselves.  The  afternoon  heat  had  passed  away,  the 
air  was  calm,  sweet,  and  tempered  with  the  freshness  of  coming 
evening,  and  the  long  shadows  of  the  hills,  creeping  over  the 
meadows,  had  almost  reached  the  town.  Beyond  the  line  of 
sycamore,  poplar  and  fig-trees  that  shaded  the  gardens  of 
Ilgiin,  rose  the  distant  chain  of  Allah  Dagh,  and  in  the  pale- 
blue  sky,  not  far  above  it,  the  dim  face  of  the  gibbous  moon 
showed  like  the  ghost  of  a  planet.  Our  horses  were  feeding 
on  the  green  meadow;  an  old  Turk  sat  beside  us,  silent  with 
fasting,  and  there  was  no  sound  but  the  shouts  of  the  children 
in  the  bath.  Such  hours  as  these,  after  a  day's  journey  made 
in  the  drowsy  heat  of  an  Eastern  summer,  are  indescribably 
grateful. 

After  the  women  had  retired  from  the  bath,  we  were  allowed 
to  enter.  The  interior  consisted  of  a  single  chamber,  thirty 
feet  high,  vaulted  and  almost  dark.  In  the  centre  was  a  large 
basin  of  hot  water,  filled  by  four  streams  which  poured  into  it 
A.  ledge  ran  aiound  the  sides,  and  niches  in  thie  wall  supplied 
places  for  our  clothes.  The  bath-keeper  furnished  us  with 
towels,  and  we  undressed  and  plunged  in.  The  water  was 
agreeably  warm  (about  90°),  had  a  sweet  taste,  and  a  very 
slight  sulphury  smell.  The  vaulted  hall  redoubled  the  slight- 
est noise,  and  a  shaven  Turk,  who  kept  us  company,  sang  in 
•lis  delight,  that  he  might  hear  the  echo  of  his  own  voice 
When  we  went  back  to  the  tent  we  found  our  visitor  lying  01 


THE     PLAGUE     OF     GAD-FLIES.  269 

the  ground,  trying  to  stay  his  hunger  It  was  rather  too  baa 
in  us  to  light  our  pipes,  make  a  sherbet  and  drink  and  sinokc 
in  his  face,  while  we  joked  him  about  the  Ramazan  ;  and  he  aj 
last  got  up  and  walked  off,  the  picture  of  distress 

We  made  an  early  start  the  next  morning,  and  rode  01. 
briskly  over  the  rolling,  grassy  hills.  A  beautiful  lake,  with 
an  island  in  it,  lay  at  the  foot  of  Emir  Dagh.  After  two  hours 
we  reached  a  guard-house,  where  our  teskeres  were  demanded, 
and  the  lazy  guardsman  invited  us  in  to  take  coffee,  that  he 
might  establish  a  right  to  the  backsheesh  which  he  could  not 
demand.  He  had  seen  us  afar  off,  and  the  coffee  was  smoking 
in  the  finjans  when  we  arrived.  The  sun  was  already  terribly 
hot,  and  the  large,  green  gad-flies  came  in  such  quantities  that 
I  seemed  to  be  riding  in  the  midst  of  a  swarm  of  bees.  My 
horse  suffered  very  much,  and  struck  out  his  hind  feet  so 
violently,  in  his  endeavors  to  get  rid  of  them,  that  he  racked 
every  joint  in  my  body.  They  were  not  content  with  suck- 
LLg  his  blood,  but  settling  on  the  small  segment  of  my  calf, 
exposed  between  the  big  Tartar  boot  and  the  flowing  trowsers, 
bit  through  my  stockings  with  fierce  bills.  I  killed  hundreds 
of  them,  to  no  purpose,  and  at  last,  to  relieve  my  horse,  tied  a 
bunch  of  hawthorn  to  a  string,  by  which  I  swung  it  under  his 
belly  and  against  the  inner  side  of  his  flanks.  In  this  way  J 
gave  him  some  relief — a  service  which  he  acknowledged  by  a 
grateful  motion  of  his  head. 

As  we  descended  towards  Ak-Sheher  the  country  became 
exceedingly  rich  and  luxuriant.  The  range  of  Sultan  Dagh 
^the  Mountain  of  the  Sultan)  rose  on  our  left,  its  sides  covered 
with  a  thick  screen  of  shrubbery,  and  its  highest  peak  dotted 
with  patches  of  snow;  opposite,  the  lower  range  of  Emir  Dagh 


270  THE  ULNDS  OP  THE  SARACEN. 

(the  Mountain  of  the  Prince)  lay  blue  and  bare  in  the  sun 
shine.  The  base  of  Sultan  Dagh  was  girdled  with  groves  of 
fruit-trees,  stretching  out  in  long  lines  on  the  plain,  with  fields 
of  ripening  wheat  between.  In  the  distance  the  large  lake  of 
Ak-Sheher  glittered  in  the  sun.  Towards  the  north-west,  th« 
plain  stretched  away  for  fifty  miles  before  reaching  the  hills. 
It  is  evidently  on  a  much  lower  level  than  the  plain  of  Kouia  ; 
the  heat  was  not  only  greater,  but  the  season  was  further 
advanced.  Wheat  was  nearly  readj  for  cutting,  and  the 
poppy-fields  where,  the  day  previous,  the  men  were  making 
their  first  incisions  for  opium,  here  had  yielded  their  harvest 
and  were  fast  ripening  their  seed.  Ak-Sheher  is  beautifully 
situated  at  the  entrance  of  a  deep  gorge  in  the  mountains.  It 
is  so  buried  in  its  embowered  gardens  that  little,  except  the 
mosque,  is  seen  as  you  approach  it.  It  is  a  large  place,  and 
boasts  a  fine  mosque,  but  contains  nothing  worth  seeing.  The 
bazaar,  after  that  of  Konia,  was  the  largest  we  had  seen  since 
leaving  Tarsus.  The  greater  part  of  the  shopkeepers  lay  at 
full  length,  dozing,  sleeping,  or  staying  their  appetites  till  the 
sunset  gun.  We  found  some  superb  cherries,  and  plenty  of 
snow,  which  is  brought  down  from  the  mountain.  The 
natives  were  very  friendly  and  good-humored,  but  seemed  sur- 
prised at  Mr.  Harrison  tasting  the  che  fies,  although  I  told 
them  we  were  upon  a  journey.  Our  tent  was  pitched  under  a 
splendid  walnut  tree,  outside  of  the  town.  The  green  mountain 
*ose  between  us  and  the  fading  sunset,  and  the  yellow  moon 
was  hanging  in  the  east,  as  we  took  our  dinner  at  the  tent- 
door  Turks  were  riding  homewards  on  donkeys,  with  loads  of 
grass  which  they  had  been  cutting  in  the  meadows.  The  gun 
was  fired,  and  the  shouts  of  the  children  announced  the  elos* 


THE     BASE     OF     SULTAN     DAGII.  271 

of  the  day's  fast,  while  the  sweet,  melancholy  voice  of  a  boy 
muezzin  called  us  to  sunset  prayer,  from  the  minaret. 

Leaving  Ak-Sheher  this  morning,  we  rode  along  the  bast 
of  Snltan  Dagh  The  plain  which  we  overlooked  was  magnifi- 
cent. The  wilderness  of  shrubbery  which  fringed  the  slopes 
of  the  mountain  gave  place  to  great  orchards  and  gardens, 
interspersed  with  fields  of  grain,  which  extended  far  out  on 
the  plain,  to  the  wild  thickets  and  wastes  of  reeds  surrounding 
the  lake.  The  sides  of  Sultan  Dagh  were  terraced  and  culti- 
vated wherever  it  was  practicable,  and  I  saw  some  fields  of 
wheat  high  up  on  the  mountain.  There  were  many  people 
in  the  road  or  laboring  in  the  fields  ;  and  during  the  forenoon 
we  passed  several  large  villages.  The  country  is  more  thickly 
inhabited,  and  has  a  more  thrifty  and  prosperous  air  than  any 
part  of  Asia  Minor  which  I  have  seen.  The  people  are  better 
clad,  have  more  open,  honest,  cheerful  and  intelligent  faces, 
and  exhibit  a  genuine  courtesy  and  good-will  in  their  demeanor 
towards  us.  I  never  felt  more  perfectly  secure,  or  more  certain 
of  being  among  people  whom  I  could  trust. 

We  passed  under  the  summit  of  Sultan  Dagh,  which  shone 
out  so  clear  and  distinct  in  the  morning  sun,  that  I  could 
scarcely  realize  its  actual  height  above  the  plain.  From  a  tre- 
mendous gorge,  cleft  between  the  two  higher  peaks,  issued  a 
large  stream,  which,  divided  into  a  hundred  channels,  fertilize? 
a  wide  extent  of  plain.  About  two  hours  from  Ak-Sheher  we 
passed  a  splendid  fountain  of  crystal  water,  gushing  up  beside 
the  road.  I  believe  it  is  the  same  called  by  some  travellers 
the  Fountain  of  Midas,  but  am  ignorant  wherefore  the  name  ii 
given  it.  We  rode  for  several  hours  through  a  succession  of 
grand,  rich  landscapes.  A  smaller  lake  succeeded  to  that  o1 


272  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

Ak-Sheher,  Emir  Dagh  rose  higher  in  the  pale-blue  sky,  and 
Sultan  Dagh  showed  other  peaks,  broken  and  striped  with 
snow  ;  but  around  us  were  the  same  glorious  orchards  and 
gardens,  the  same  golden-green  wheat  *nd  rustling  phalanxes 
of  poppies — armies  of  vegetable  Round-heads,  beside  the 
bristling  and  bearded  Cavaliers.  The  sun  was  intensely  hot 
during  the  afternoon,  as  we  crossed  the  plain,  and  I  became  so 
drowsed  that  it  required  an  agony  of  exertion  to  keep  from 
tumbling  off  my  horse.  We  here  left  the  great  post-road  to 
Constantinople,  and  took  a  less  frequented  track.  The  plain 
gradually  became  a  meadow,  covered  with  shrub  cypress,  flags, 
reeds,  and  wild  water-plants.  There  were  vast  wastes  of  luxu- 
riant grass,  whereon  thousands  of  black  buffaloes  were  feeding. 
A  stone  causeway,  containing  many  elegant  fragments  of 
ancient  sculpture,  extended  across  this  part  of  the  plain,  but 
we  took  a  summer  path  beside  it,  through  beds  of  iris  in  bloom 
— a  fragile  snowy  blossom,  with  a  lip  of  the  clearest  golden 
hue.  The  causeway  led  to  a  bare  salt  plain,  beyond  which  we 
came  to  the  town  of  Bolawadiin,  and  terminated  our  day's 
journey  of  forty  miles. 

Bolawadiin  is  a  collection  of  mud  houses,  about  a  mile  long, 
situated  on  an  eminence  at  the  western  base  of  Emir  Dagh. 
I  went  into  the  bazaar,  which  was  a  small  place,  and  not  very 
well  supplied,  though,  as  it  was  near  sunset,  there  was  quite  a 
crowd  of  people,  and  the  bakers  were  shovelling  out  their 
fresh  bread  at  a  brisk  rate.  Every  one  took  me  for  a 
good  Egyptian  Mohammedan,  and  I  was  jostled  right  and  left 
among  the  turbans,  in  a  manner  that  certainly  would  not  have 
happened  me  had  I  not  also  worn  one.  Mr.  H.,  who  had 
fallen  behind  the  caravan,  came  up  after  we  had  encamped 


BOT-AWADDN.  273 

and  might  have  wandered  a  long  time  without  finding  us,  hu4 
for  the  good-natured  efforts  of  the  inhabitants  to  set  him 
aright.  This  evening  he  knocked  over  a  hedgehog,  oiistakiim 
it  for  a  cat.  The  poos  creature  was  severely  hurt,  and  its  soli- 
of  distress,  precisely  like  those  of  a  little  child,  were  to  painful 
to  hear,  that  we  were  obliged  to  have  it  removed  from  tli' 
/icirdty  of  the  tent 


274  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE     FORESTS     OF     PHRYGIA. 

the  Frontier  of  Phrygia — Ancient  Quarries  and  Tombs — We  Enter  the  Pine  Forests — 4 
Gnard-  House — Encampments  of  the  Turcomans — Pastoral  Scenery — A  Summer  V!l' 
lage — The  Valley  of  the  Tombs — Rock  Sepulchres  of  the  Phrygian  Kings — The  Titan'i 
Camp — The  Valley  of  Kumbeh — A  Land  of  Flowers — Turcoman  Hospitality — Th« 
Exiled  Effendis — The  Old  Turcoman — A  Glimpse  of  Arcadia — A  Landscape— Inter 
eated  Friendship— The  Valley  of  the  Pursek — Arrival  at  Kiutahya. 

u  And  round  us  all  the  thicket  rang 
To  many  a  flute  of  Arcady."  TECSTSOJT. 

KIUTAHYA,  Jvfy  5, 1858. 

WE  had  now  passed  through  the  ancient  provinces  of  Cilicia, 
Cappadocia,  and  Lycaonia,  and  reached  the  confines  of  Phrygia 
— a  rude  mountain  region,  which  was  never  wholly  penetrated 
by  the  light  of  Grecian  civilization.  It  is  still  comparatively 
a  wilderness,  pierced  but  by  a  single  high-road,  and  almost 
unvisited  by  travellers,  yet  inclosing  in  its  depths  many  curious 
relics  of  antiquity.  Leaving  Bolawadiiu  in  the  morning,  we 
ascended  a  long,  treeless  mountain-slope,  and  in  three  or  four 
hours  reached  the  dividing  ridge — the  watershed  of  Asia 
Minor,  dividing  the  affluents  of  the  Mediterranean  and  the 
central  lakes  from  the  streams  that  flow  to  the  Black  Sea. 
Looking  back,  Sultan  Dagh,  along  whose  base  we  had  travelled 
he  previous  day,  lay  high  and  blue  in  the  background 


ANCIENT    QUARRIES    AND    1OKBS.  275 

streaked  with  shining  snow,  and  far  away  behind  it  arose 
a  still  higher  peak,  hoary  with  the  lingering  winter.  We 
descended  into  a  grassy  plain,  shut  in  ly  a  range  of  broken 
mountains,  covered  to  their  summits  with  dark-green  shrub- 
bery, through  which  the  strata  of  marble  rock  gleamed  like 
patches  of  snow.  The  hills  in  front  were  scarred  with  old 
quarries,  once  worked  for  the  celebrated  Phrygian  marble 
There  was  neither  a  habitation  nor  a  human  being  to  be  seen, 
and  the  landscape  had  a  singularly  wild,  lonely,  and  pictu- 
resque air. 

Turning  westward,  we  crossed  a  high  rolling  tract,  and 
entered  a  valley  entirely  covered  with  dwarf  oaks  and  cedare. 
In  spite  of  the  dusty  road,  the  heat,  and  the  multitude  of  gad- 
flies, the  journey  presented  an  agreeable  contrast  to  the  great 
plains  over  which  we  had  been  travelling  for  many  days.  The 
opposite  side  of  the  glen  was  crowned  with  a  tall  crest  of  shat- 
tered rock,  in  which  were  many  old  Phrygian  tombs.  They 
were  mostly  simple  chambers,  with  square  apertures.  There 
were  traces  of  many  more,  the  rock  having  been  blown  up  or 
quarried  down — the  tombs,  instead  of  protecting  it,  only  fur- 
nishing one  facility  the  more  for  destruction.  After  an  hour's 
rest  at  a  fountain,  we  threaded  the  windings  of  the  glen  to  a 
lower  plain,  quite  shut  in  by  the  hills,  whose  ribs  of  marble 
showed  through  the  forests  of  oak,  holly,  cedar,  and  pine,  which 
dotted  them.  We  were  now  fully  entered  into  the  hill-country, 
and  our  road  passed  over  heights  and  through  hollows  covered 
witl  picturesque  clumps  of  foliage.  It  resembled  some  of  the 
wild  western  downs  of  America,  and.  but  for  the  Phrygian 
tombs,  whose  doorways  stared  at  us  from  every  rock,  seemed 
as  little  familiar  with  the  presence  of  Man. 


976  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

Hadji  Yonssuf,  in  stopping  to  arrange  some  of  the  baggage 
lost  his  hold  of  his  mule,  and  in  spite  of  every  effort  to  secure 
her,  the  provoking  beast  kept  her  liberty  for  the  rest  of  the 
day.  In  vain  did  we  head  her  off,  chase  her,  coax  her,  set 
traps  for  her  :  she  was  too  canning  to  be  taken  in,  and 
marched  along  at  her  ease,  running  into  every  field  of  grain, 
stopping  to  crop  the  choicest  bunches  of  grass,  or  walking 
demurely  in  the  caravan,  allowing  the  hadji  to  come  within 
arm's  length  before  she  kicked  up  her  heels  and  dashed  away 
again.  We  had  a  long  chase  through  the  clumps  of  oak  and 
holly,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  The  great  green  gad-flies 
swarmed  around  us,  biting  myself  as  well  as  my  horse 
Hecatombs,  crushed  by  my  whip,  dropped  dead  in  the  dust, 
but  the  ranks  were  immediately  filled  from  some  invisible 
reserve.  The  soil  was  no  longer  bare,  but  entirely  covered 
with  grass  and  flowers.  In  one  of  the  valleys  I  saw  a  large 
patch  of  the  crimson  larkspur,  so  thick  as  to  resemble  a  pool 
of  blood.  While  crossing  a  long,  hot  hill,  we  came  upon  a 
little  arbor  of  stones,  covered  with  pine  branches.  It  inclosed 
an  ancient  sarcophagus  of  marble,  nearly  filled  with  water 
Beside  it  stood  a  square  cup,  with  a  handle,  rudely  hewn  out 
of  a  piece  of  pine  wood.  This  was  a  charitable  provision  for 
travellers,  and  constantly  supplied  by  the  Turcomans  who  lived 
in  the  vicinity. 

The  last  two  hours  of  our  journey  that  day  were  through  a 
glorious  forest  of  pines.  The  road  lay  in  a  winding  glen,  green 
and  grassy,  and  covered  to  the  summits  on  both  sides  with 
oeautiful  pine  trees,  intermixed  with  cedar.  The  air  had  the 
true  northern  aroma,  and  was  more  grateful  than  wine.  Everj 
turn  of  the  glen  disclosed  a  charming  woodland  view.  It  was 


THE    GCAKD-HOU8B.  271 

a  wild  valley  ol  the  northern  hills,  filled  with  the  burning 
lustre  of  a  summer  sun,  and  canopied  by  the  brilliant  blue  of 
a  summer  sky.  There  were  signs  of  the  woodman's  axe,  and 
the  charred  embers  of  forest  camp-fires.  I  thought  of  the 
kvely  Mnadas  in  the  pine  forests  behind  Monterey,  and  could 
really  have  imagined  myself  there.  Towards  evening  we  readied 
a  solitary  guard-house,  on  the  edge  of  the  forest.  The  glen 
here  opened  a  little,  and  a  stone  fountain  of  delicious  water 
furnished  all  that  we  wanted  for  a  camping-place.  The  hous } 
was  inhabited  by  three  soldiers  ;  sturdy,  good-humored  fellows, 
who  immediately  spread  a  mat  in  the  shade  for  us  and  made  us 
some  excellent  coffee.  A  Turcoman  encampment  in  the  neigh- 
borhood supplied  us  with  milk  and  eggs. 

The  guardsmen  were  good  Mussulmans,  and  took  us  for  the 
same.  One  of  them  asked  me  to  let  him  know  when  the  sun 
was  down,  and  I  prolonged  his  fast  until  it  was  quite  dark, 
when  I  gave  him  permission  to  eat.  They  all  had  tolerable 
Btallions  for  their  service,  and  seemed  to  live  pleasantly  enough, 
in  their  wild  way.  The  fat,  stumpy  corporal,  with  his  enor- 
mously broad  pantaloons  and  automaton  legs,  went  down  tc 
the  fountain  with  his  musket,  and  after  taking  a  rest  and 
sighting  full  five  minutes,  fired  at  a  dove  without  hitting  it 
He  afterwards  joined  us  in  a  social  pipe,  and  we  sat  on  a  car- 
pet at  the  door  of  the  guard-house,  watching  the  splendid 
moonrise  through  the  pine  boughs.  When  the  pipes  had 
burned  out  I  went  to  bed,  and  slept  a  long,  sweet  sleep  until 
dawn. 

We  knew  that  the  tombs  of  the  Phrygian  Kings  could  not 
be  far  off,  and,  on  making  inquiries  of  the  corporal,  found  that 
ke  knew  the  place.  It  was  not  four  hours  distant,  by  a  by-road 


278  THE     LANDS    OF    THE    SARACElf. 

and  as  it  would  be  impossible  to  reach  it  without  a  guide,  ht 
would  give  us  one  of  his  men,  in  consideration  of  a  fee  of 
twenty  piastres.  The  difficulty  was  evident,  in  a  hilly,  wooded 
txwntry  like  this,  traversed  by  a  labyrinth  of  valleys  ant? 
ravines,  and  so  we  accepted  the  soldier.  As  we  were  about 
leaving,  an  old  Turcoman,  whose  beard  was  dyed  a  bright  red, 
came  up,  saying  that  he  knew  Mr.  H.  was  a  physician,  and 
could  cure  him  of  his  deafness.  The  morning  air  was  sweet 
with  the  breath  of  cedar  and  pine,  and  we  rode  on  through  the 
woods  and  over  the  open  turfy  glades,  in  high  spirits.  We 
were  in  the  heart  of  a  mountainous  country,  clothed  with  ever- 
green forests,  except  some  open  upland  tracts,  which  showed  a 
thick  green  turf,  dotted  all  over  with  park-like  clumps,  and 
single  great  trees.  The  pines  were  noble  trunks,  often  sixty 
to  eighty  feet  high,  and  with  boughs  disposed  in  all  possible 
picturesqueness  of  form.  The  cedar  frequently  showed  a  solid 
white  bole,  three  feet  in  diameter. 

We  took  a  winding  footpath,  often  a  mere  track,  striking 
across  the  hills  in  a  northern  direction.  Everywhere  we  met 
the  Turks  of  the  plain,  who  are  now  encamped  in  the  moun- 
tains, to  tend  their  flocks  through  the  summer  months.  Herd? 
of  sheep  and  goats  were  scattered  over  the  green  pasture-slopes, 
and  the  idle  herd-boys  basked  in  the  morning  sun,  playing 
lively  airs  on  a  reed  flute,  resembling  the  Arabic  zumarra 
Here  and  there  was  a  woodman,  busy  at  a  recently  felled  tree 
and  we  met  several  of  the  creaking  carts  of  the  country,  haul- 
ing logs  All  that  we  saw  had  a  pleasant  rural  air,  a  smack 
of  primitive  and  unsophisticated  life.  From  the  higher  ridges 
over  which  we  passed,  we  could  see,  far  to  the  east  and  west, 
other  ranges  of  pine-covered  mountains,  and  in  the  distance 


A    TURCOMAN    VILLAGE  279 

the  cloudy  lines  of  loftier  chains.  The  trunks  of  the  pinei 
were  nearly  all  charred,  and  many  of  the  smaller  trees  dead 
from  the  fires  which,  later  in  the  year,  rage  in  these  forests. 

After  four  hours  of  varied  and  most  inspiring  travel,  we 
reached  a  district  covered  for  the  most  part  with  oak  woods — a 
more  open  though  still  mountainous  region.  There  was  a  sum- 
mer village  of  Turks  scattered  over  the  nearest  slope — proba- 
bly fifty  houses  in  all,  almost  perfect  counterparts  of  Western 
log-cabins.  They  were  bnilt  of  pine  logs,  laid  crosswise,  and 
covered  with  rough  boards.  These,  as  we  were  told,  were  the 
dwellings  of  the  people  who  inhabit  the  village  of  Khosref 
Pasha  Khan  during  the  winter.  Great  numbers  of  sheep  and 
goats  were  browsing  over  the  hills  or  lying  around  the  doors 
af  the  houses.  The  latter  were  beautiful  creatures,  with  heavy, 
curved  horns,  and  long,  white,  silky  hair,  that  entirely  hid  their 
eyes.  We  stopped  at  a  house  for  water,  which  the  man 
brought  out  in  a  little  cask.  He  at  first  proposed  giving  us 
yaourt,  and  his  wife  suggested  kaimak  (sweet  curds),  which  we 
agreed  to  take,  but  it  proved  to  be  only  boiled  milk. 

Leaving  the  village,  we  took  a  path  leading  westward, 
mounted  a  long  hill,  and  again  entered  the  pine  forests 
Before  long,  we  came  to  a  well-built  country-house,  somewhat 
resembling  a  Swiss  cottage.  It  was  two  stories  high,  and 
there  was  an  upper  balcony,  with  cushioned  divans,  overlook- 
ing a  thriving  garden-patch  and  some  fruit-trees.  Three  or 
foui  men  were  weeding  in  the  garden,  and  the  owner  came  up 
and  welcomed  us.  A  fountain  of  ice-cold  water  gushed  into  a 
stone  trough  at  the  door,  making  a  tempting  spot  for  our 
breakfast,  but  we  were  bent  on  reaching  the  tombs.  There 
were  convenient  out-houses  for  fowls,  sheep,  and  cattle  Th» 


280  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

nerds  were  oat,  grazing  along  the  edges  of  the  forest,  and  wt 
beard  the  shrill,  joyous  melodies  of  the  flutes  blown  by  th« 
herd-boys. 

We  now  reached  a  ridge,  whence  we  looked  down  through 
the  forest  upon  a  long  valley,  nearly  half  a  mile  wide,  and  boi 
dered  on  the  opposite  side  by  ranges  of  broken  sandstone 
crags.  This  was  th»  place  we  sought — the  Valley  of  the 
Phrygian  Tombs.  Already  we  could  distinguish  the  hewn 
faces  of  the  rocks,  and  the  dark  apertures  to  the  chambers 
within.  The  bottom  of  the  valley  was  a  bed  of  glorious 
grass,  blazoned  with  flowers,  and  redolent  of  all  vernal 
smells.  Several  peasants,  finding  it  too  hot  to  mow,  had 
thrown  their  scythes  along  the  swarths,  and  were  lying 
in  the  shade  of  an  oak.  We  rode  over  the  new-cut  hay, 
np  the  opposite  side,  and  dismounted  at  the  face  of  the 
crags.  As  we  approached  them,  the  number  of  chambers 
hewn  in  the  rock,  the  doors  and  niches  now  open  to  the 
day,  surmounted  by  shattered  spires  and  turrets,  gave  the 
whole  mass  the  appearance  of  a  grand  fortress  in  ruins.  The 
crags,  which  are  of  a  very  soft,  reddish-gray  sandstone, 
rise  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  their  base,  and  their  sum- 
mits are  worn  by  the  weather  into  the  most  remarkable 
forms. 

The  principal  monument  is  a  broad,  projecting  cliff,  one 
Mde  of  which  has  been  cut  so  as  to  resemble  the  facade  of  a 
temple.  The  sculptured  part  is  about  sixty  feet  high  by  sixty 
in  breadth,  and  represents  a  solid  wall  with  two  pilasters 
it  the  ends,  upholding  an  architrave  and  pediment,  which 
is  surmounted  by  two  large  volutes.  The  whole  face  of  the 
Trail  is  covered  with  ornamei.ts  resembling  panel-work,  not  \o 


SEPULCHRES    OF    THE    PHRYGIAN    KINGS  281 

regular  squares,  but  a  labyrinth  of  intricate  designs  It 
the  centre,  at  the  bottom,  is  a  shallow  square  recess,  sur 
rounded  by  an  elegant,  though  plain  moulding,  but  there  is  m. 
appearance  of  an  entrance  to  the  sepulchral  chamber,  whicl 
may  be  hidden  in  the  heart  of  the  rock.  There  is  an  inscrip 
tion  in  Greek  running  up  one  side,  but  it  is  of  a  later  date 
than  the  work  itself.  On  one  of  the  tombs  there  is  an  inscrip- 
tion :  "  To  King  Midas."  These  relics  are  supposed  to  date 
from  the  period  of  the  Gordian  Dynasty,  about  seven  centu- 
ries before  Christ. 

A  little  in  front  of  a  headland,  formed  by  the  summit  walls 
of  two  meeting  valleys,  rises  a  mass  of  rocks  one  hundred  feet 
high,  cut  into  sepulchral  chambers,  story  above  story,  with 
the  traces  of  steps  between  them,  leading  to  others  still  higher. 
The  whole  rock,  which  may  be  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long 
by  fifty  feet  broad,  has  been  scooped  out,  leaving  but  narrow 
partitions  to  separate  the  chambers  of  the  dead  These  cham- 
bers are  all  plain,  but  some  are  of  very  elegant  proportions, 
with  arched  or  pyramidal  roofs,  and  arched  recesses  at  the 
sides,  containing  sarcophagi  hewn  in  the  solid  stone.  There 
are  also  many  niches  for  cinerary  urns.  The  principal  tomb 
had  a  portico,  supported  by  columns,  but  the  front  is  now 
entirely  hurled  down,  and  only  the  elegant  panelling  and  stone 
joists  of  the  ceiling  remain.  The  entire  hill  was  a  succession 
of  tombs  There  is  not  a  rock  which  does  not  bear  traces  of 
them.  I  might  have  counted  several  hundred  within  a  stone's 
throw.  The  position  of  these  curious  remains  in  a  lonely 
/alley,  shut  in  on  all  sides  by  dark,  pine-covered  mountains- 
two  of  which  are  crowned  with  a  natural  acropolis  of  rock, 
resembling  a  fortress — increases  the  interest  with  which  thej 


282  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

inspire  the  beholder.  The  valley  on  the  western  side,  with  ita 
bed  of  ripe  wheat  in  the  bottom,  its  tall  walls,  towers,  and 
pinnacles  of  rock,  and  its  distant  vista  of  mountain  and  forest, 
is  the  most  picturesque  in  Phrygia. 

The  Turcoman  reapers,  who  came  up  to  see  us  and  talk  with 
ns,  said  that  there  were  the  remains  of  walls  on  the  summit  of 
the  principal  acropolis  opposite  us,  and  that,  further  up  the 
valley,  there  was  a  chamber  with  two  columns  in  front. 
Mr.  Harrison  and  I  saddled  and  rode  off,  passing  along 
a  wall  of  fantastic  rock-turrets,  at  the  base  of  which  was 
a  natural  column,  about  ten  feet  high,  and  five  in  diameter 
almost  perfectly  round,  and  upholding  an  immense  reck, 
shaped  like  a  cocked  hat.  In  crossing  the  meadow  we  saw 
a  Turk  sitting  in  the  sun  beside  a  spring,  and  busily  engaged 
in  knitting  a  stocking.  After  a  ride  of  two  miles  we  found 
the  chamber,  hewn  like  the  facade  of  a  temple  in  an  isolated 
rock,  overlooking  two  valleys  of  wild  meadow-land.  The 
pediment  and  cornice  were  simple  and  beautiful,  but  the 
columns  had  been  broken  away.  The  chambers  were  perfectly 
plain,  but  the  panel-work  on  the  ceiling  of  the  portico  was 
entire. 

After  passing  three  hours  in  examining  these  tcoibs,  we 
took  the  track  which  our  guide  pointed  out  as  the  road  to 
Kiutahya.  We  rode  two  hours  through  the  forest,  and  came 
out  upon  a  wooded  height,  overlooking  a  grand,  open  valley, 
rich  in  grain-fields  and  pasture  land.  While  I  was  contemplat- 
ting  this  lovely  view,  the  road  turned  a  corner  of  the  ridge, 
and  lo  !  before  me  there  appeared  (as  I  thought),  above  the 
tops  of  the  pines,  high  up' on  the  mountain  side,  a  line  of  enor 
mous  tents  Those  snow-white  cones,  uprearing  their  sharp 


THE  TITAN'S  CAMP.  283 

ipires,  and  spreading  out  their  broad  bases — what  could  they  be 
but  an  encampment  of  monster  tents  ?  Yet  no  ;  they  wert 
pinnacles  of  white  rock — perfect  cones,  from  thirty  to  one  huri 
dred  feet  in  height,  twelve  in  all,  and  ranged  side  by  side  along 
the  edge  of  the  cliff,  with  the  precision  of  a  military  camp. 
They  were  ^.now-white,  perfectly  smooth  and  full,  and  their 
bases  touched  What  made  the  spectacle  more  singular,  there 
was  no  other  appearance  of  the  same  rock  on  the  mountain. 
All  around  them  was  the  dark-green  of  the  pines,  out  of  which 
they  rose  like  drifted  horns  of  unbroken  snow.  I  named  this 
singular  phenomenon — which  seems  to  have  escaped  the 
notice  of  travellers — The  Titan's  Camp. 

In  another  hour  we  reached  a  fountain  near  the  village  of 

Kurnbeh,  and  pitched  our  tents  for  the  night.     The  village, 

• 
which  is  half  a  mile  in  length,  is  built  upon  a  singular  crag, 

which  shoots  up  abruptly  from  the  centre  of  the  valley,  rising 
at  one  extremity  to  a  height  of  more  than  a  hundred  feet.  It 
was  entirely  deserted,  the  inhabitants  having  all  gone  off  to 
the  mountains  with  their  herds.  The  solitary  muezzin,  who 
cried  the  mughreb  at  the  close  of  the  fast,  and  lighted  the 
lamps  on  his  minaret,  went  through  with  his  work  in  most 
anclerical  haste,  now  that  there  was  no  one  to  notice  him.  We 
sent  Achmet,  the  katurgee,  to  the  mountain  camp  of  the  villa- 
gers, to  procure  a  supply  of  fowls  and  barley. 

We  rose  very  early  yesterday  morning,  shivering  in  the  ^,old 
air  of  the  mountains,  and  just  as  the  sun,  bursting  through  the 
pin»,s,  looked  down  the  little  hollow  where  our  tents  were 
pitched,  set  the  caravan  in  motion.  The  ride  down  the  valley 
was  charming.  The  land  was  naturally  rich  and  highly  culti- 
vated, which  made  its  desertion  the  more  singular.  League? 


284  THE  LAKDS  OF  THE  SARACRW. 

of  wheat,  rye  and  poppies  spread  around  us,  left  for  the  snmmei 
warmth  to  do  its  silent  work.  The  dew  sparkled  on  the  fields 
as  we  rode  through  them,  and  the  splendor  of  the  flowers  ID 
blossom  was  equal  to  that  of  the  plains  of  Palestine.  There 
were  purple,  white  and  scarlet  poppies  ;  the  rich  crimson  lark- 
spur ;  the  red  anemone  ;  the  golden  daisy  ;  the  pink  convolvu- 
lus ;  and  a  host  of  smaller  blooms,  so  intensely  bright  and 
dazzling  in  their  hues,  that  the  meadows  were  richer  than  a 
pavement  of  precious  jewels.  To  look  towards  the  sun,  over 
a  field  of  scarlet  poppies,  was  like  looking  on  a  bed  of  live 
coals  ;  the  light,  striking  through  the  petals,  made  them  bum 
as  with  an  inward  fire.  Out  of  this  wilderness  of  gorgeous 
color,  rose  the  tall  spires  of  a  larger  plant,  covered  with  great 
yellow  flowers,  while  here  and  there  the  snowy  blossoms  of  a 
clamp  of  hawthorn  sweetened  {he  morning  air. 

A  short  distance  beyond  Kumbeh,  we  passed  another  group 
of  ancient  tombs,  one  of  which  was  of  curious  design.  An 
isolated  rock,  thirty  feet  in  height  by  twenty  in  diameter,  was 
cut  so  as  to  resemble  a  triangular  tower,  with  the  apex  bevelled. 
A  chamber,  containing  a  sarcophagus,  was  hewn  out  of  the 
interior.  The  entrance  was  ornamented  with  double  columns 
in  bas-relief,  and  a  pediment.  There  was  another  arched 
chamber,  cut  directly  through  the  base  of  the  triangle,  with  a 
niche  on  each  side,  hollowed  out  at  the  bottom  so  as  to  form  a 
sarcophagus. 

Leaving  these,  the  last  of  the  Phrygian  ton  bs,  we  struck 
across  the  valley  and  ascended  a  high  range  of  hills,  covered 
with  pine,  to  an  upland,  wooded  region.  Here  we  found  a 
lummer  village  of  log  cabins,  scattered  over  a  grassy  slope 
The  people  regarded  us  with  some  curiosity,  and  the  womei 


THE    EXILED    EFFENDIS.  285 

hastily  concealed  their  faces.  Mr.  H.  rode  up  to  a  large  ne?» 
house,  and  peeped  in  between  the  logs.  There  were  se\era. 
women  inside,  who  started  up  in  great  confusion  and  threw 
Dver  their  heads  whatever  article  was  most  convenient.  Au 
old  man,  with  a  long  white  beard,  neatly  dressed  in  a  green 
jacket  and  shawl  turban,  came  out  and  welcomed  us.  I  asked 
for  kaimak,  which  he  promised,  and  immediately  brought  out  a 
carpet  and  spread  it  on  the  ground.  Then  followed  a  large 
basin  of  kaimak,  with  wooden  spoons,  three  loaves  of  bread, 
and  a  plate  of  cheese.  We  seated  ourselves  on  the  carpet,  and 
delved  in  with  the  spoons,  while  the  old  man  retired  lest  hia 
appetite  should  be  provoked.  The  milk  was  excellent,  nor 
were  the  bread  and  cheese  to  be  despised. 

While  we  were  eating,  the  Khowagee,  or  schoolmaster  of  the 
community,  a  genteel  little  man  in  a  round  white  turban,  came 
up  to  inquire  of  Fra^ois  who  we  were.  "  That  effendi  in  the 
blue  dress,"  said  he,  "  is  the  Bey,  is  he  not  ?"  "  Yes,"  said  F. 
"  And  the  other,  with  the  striped  shirt  and  white  turban,  is  a 
writer  ?"  [Here  he  was  not  far  wrong.]  "  But  how  is  it  that 
the  effendis  do  not  speak  Turkish  ?"  he  persisted.  "  Because," 
said  Fran9ois,  "  their  fathers  were  exiled  by  Sultan  Mahmoud 
when  they  were  small  children.  They  have  grown  up  in 
Aleppo  like  Arabs,  and  have  not  yet  learned  Turkish  ;  but 
God  grant  that  the  Sultan  may  not  turn  his  face  away  froir 
them,  and  that  they  may  regain  the  rank  their  fathers  once  had 
in  Stamboul."  "  God  grant  it  !"  replied  the  Khowagee. 
greatly  interested  in  the  story.  By  this  time  we  had  eaten  our 
full  share  of  the  kairaak,  which  was  finished  by  Fran9ois  and 
the  katurgees.  The  old  mau  now  came  up,  mounted  on  a 
ion  mare,  stating  that  he  was  bound  for  Kiutahya,  and  wai 


286  THI  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

uelighted  with  the  prospect  of  travelling  in  such  good  .^ 

I  gave  one  of  his  young  children  some  money,  as  the  kai'mak 

u  us  tendered  out  of  pure  hospitality,  and  so  we  rode  off. 

Oar  new  companion  was  armed  to  the  teeth,  having  a  loug  gun 
with  a  heavy  wooden  stock  and  nondescript  lock,  and  a  sword 
of  excellent  metal.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  weapon  of  the  old  Greek 
oni] tire,  and  the  cross  was  still  enamelled  in  gold  at  the  root  of 
the  blade,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  scratch  it  out.  He  waa 
something  of  a  fakeer,  having  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  and 
Jerusalem.  He  was  very  inquisitive,  plying  Francois  with 
questions  about  the  government.  The  latter  answered  that 
we  were  not  connected  with  the  government,  but  the  old  fellow 
shrewdly  hinted  that  he  knew  better — we  were  persons  of  rank, 
travelling  incognito.  He  was  very  attentive  to  us,  offering  us 
water  at  every  fountain,  although  he  believed  us  to  be  good 
Mussulmans.  We  found  him  of  some  service  as  a  guide,  short 
ening  our  road  by  taking  by-paths  through  the  woods. 

For  several  hours  we  traversed  a  beautifully  wooded  region 
of  hills.  Graceful  clumps  of  pine  shaded  the  grassy  knolls, 
where  the  sheep  and  silky-haired  goats  were  basking  at  rest, 
and  the  air  was  filled  with  a  warm,  summer  smell,  blown  from 
the  banks  of  golden  broom.  Now  and  then,  from  the  thickets 
of  laurel  and  arbutus,  a  shrill  shepherd's  reed  piped  some 
joyous  woodland  melody.  Was  it  a  Faun,  astray  among  the 
hills  ?  Green  dells,  open  to  the  sunshine,  and  beautiful  as 
dreams  of  Arcady,  divided  the  groves  of  pine.  The  sky  over 
head  was  pure  and  cloudless,  clasping  the  landscape  with  it*,  belt 
of  peace  and  silence.  Oh,  that  delightful  region,  haunted  by 
all  the  bright  spirits  of  the  immortal  Grecian  Song  !  Chased 
away  from  the  rest  of  the  earth,  here  they  have  found  a  homt 


A    PHRYGIAN     LANDSCAPE.  281 

— here  secret  altars  remain  to  them  from  the  times  that  ar« 
departed  ! 

Out  of  these  woods,  we  passed  into  a  lonely  plain,  inclosed 
by  piny  hills  that  brightened  in  the  thin,  pure  ether.  In  the 
distance  were  some  shepherds'  tents,  and  musical  goat-bells  tin- 
kled along  the  edges  of  the  woods.  From  the  crest  of  a  lofty 
ridge  beyond  this  plain,  we  looked  back  over  the  wild  solitudes 
wherein  we  had  been  travelling  for  two  days — long  ranges  of 
dark  hills,  fading  away  behind  each  other,  with  a  perspective 
that  hinted  of  the  hidden  gulfs  between.  From  the  western 
slope,  a  still  more  extensive  prospect  opened  before  us.  Over 
ridges  covered  with  forests  of  oak  and  pine,  we  saw  the  valley  of 
the  Pursek,  the  ancient  Thyrnurius,  stretching  far  away  to  the 
misty  lioe  of  Keshish  Dagh.  The  mountains  behind  Kintahya 
loomed  up  high  and  grand,  making  a  fine  feature  in  the  middle 
distance  We  caught  but  fleeting  glimpses  of  the  view  through 
the  trees  ;  and  then,  plunging  into  the  forest  again,  descended 
to  a  cultivated  slope,  whereon  there  was  a  little  village,  now 
deserted.  The  grave-yard  beside  it  was  shaded  with  large 
'•°dar-trees,  and  near  it  there  was  a  fountain  of  excellent  water. 
"  Here,"  said  the  old  man,  "  you  can  wash  and  pray,  and  then 
rest  awhile  under  the  trees."  Francois  excused  us  by  saying 
that,  while  on  a  journey,  we  always  bathed  before  praying  ; 
but,  not  to  slight  his  faith  entirely,  I  washed  my  hands  and  face 
before  sitting  down  to  our  scanty  breakfast  of  bread  and1 
water. 

Our  path  now  led  down  through  long,  winding  glens,  over 
grown  with  oaks,  from  which  the  wild  yellow  honeysuckles  fei1 
in  a  shower  of  blossoms.  As  we  drew  near  the  valley,  the  old 
tnan  began  to  hint  that  his  presence  had  been  of  great  service 


288  TFE    LANDS    07    THB    SARACE1C. 

to  as,  and  deserved  recompense.  "  God  knows,"  said  he  to 
Francois,  "in  what  corner  of  the  mountains  you  might  now  be 
if  I  had  not  accompanied  you."  "  Oh,"  replied  Fraiujois,  "  there 
are  always  plenty  of  people  among  the  woods,  who  would  ha  ye 
been  equally  as  kind  as  yourself  in  showing  us  the  way."  He 
then  spoke  of  the  robbers  in  the  neighborhood,  and  pointed  out 
some  graves  by  the  road-side,  as  those  of  persons  who  had 
been  murdered.  "  But,"  he  added,  "everybody  in  these  parts 
knows  me,  and  whoever  is  in  company  with  me  is  always  safe." 
The  Greek  assured  him  that  we  always  depended  on  ourselves 
for  our  safety.  Defeated  on  these  tacks,  he  boldly  affirmed 
that  his  services  were  worthy  of  payment.  "  But,"  said  Fran- 
c,ois,  "  you  told  us  at  the  village  that  you  had  business  in  Kiu- 
tahya,  and  ^  juld  be  glad  to  join  us  for  the  sake  of  having 
company  on  the  road."  "  Well,  then,"  rejoined  the  old  fellow, 
making  a  last  effort,  "  I  leave  the  matter  to  your  politeness. 
"  Certainly,"  replied  the  imperturbable  dragoman,  "  we  couFd 
not  be  so  impolite  as  to  offer  money  to  a  man  of  your  wealth 
and  station ;  we  could  not  insult  you  by  giving  you  alms." 
The  old  Turcoman  thereupon  gave  a  shrug  and  a  grunt,  made 
a  sullen  good-by  salutation,  and  left  us. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  we  reached  the  Pursek. 
There  was  no  sign  of  the  city,  but  we  could  barely  discern  an  old 
fortress  on  the  lofty  cliff  which  commands  the  town.  A  long 
stone  bridge  crossed  the  river,  which  here  separates  into  half  a 
dozen  channels.  The  waters  are  swift  and  clear,  and  wind 
away  in  devious  mazes  through  the  broad  green  meadows.  We 
hurried  on,  thinking  we  saw  minarets  in  the  distance,  but  they 
proved  to  be  poplars.  The  sun  sank  lower  and  lower,  and 
finally  went  down  before  there  was  any  token  of  our  being  ic 


A31UVAL    AT    KIUTAHYA.  289 

the  vicinity  of  the  city.  Soon,  however,  a  line  of  tiled  roofs 
appeared  along  the  slope  of  a  hill  on  our  left,  and  turning  its 
base,  we  saw  the  city  before  ns,  filling  the  mouth  of  a  deep 
valley  or  gorge,  which  opened  from  the  mountains. 

But  the  horses  are  saddled,  and  Francois  tells  me  it  is  time 
to  put  up  my  pen.  We  are  off,  over  the  mountains,  tc  the  old 
Grreek  city  of  (Ezan;,  in  tne  valley  of  the  Rhyndacus 


290  THE     I.AND^   Ut     THE 


KIUTAHTA      AND    THE    RUINS     OP     (BZAlfl. 

Entrance  into  Kiutahya  The  New  Khan  —  An  Unpleasant  Discovery  —  Klutahya  —  The 
Citadel—  Panorama  trjm  the  Walls  —  The  Gorge  of  the  Mountains  —  Camp  in  t 
Meadow  —  The  Valley  of  the  Rhyndacus  —  Chavdiir  —  The  Ruins  of  CEzan!  —  The  Acro- 
polis and  Temple  —  The  Theatre  and  Stadium  —  Ride  down  the  Valley  —  Camp  at  Daghjr 
KAi. 

44  There  is  a  temple  in  ruin  stands, 
Fashioned  by  long-forgotten  hands  ; 
Two  or  three  columns  and  many  a  stone, 
Marble  and  granite,  with  grass  o'ergrown  ! 
Out  upon  Time  !  it  will  leave  no  more 
Of  the  things  to  come  than  the  things  before  !" 


KOI,  on  the  Rhyndacus,  July  6,  1S52. 

ON  entering  Kiutahya,  we  passed  the  barracks,  which  were 
the  residence  of  Kossuth  and  his  companions  in  exile.  Beyond 
them,  we  came  to  a  broad  street,  down  which  flowed  the  vilest 
stream  of  filth  of  which  even  a  Turkish  city  could  ever  boast. 
The  houses  on  either  side  were  two  stories  high,  the  upper 
part  of  wood,  with  hanging  balconies,  over  which  shot  the 
eaves  of  the  tiled  roofs.  The  welcome  cannon  had  just 
sounded,  announcing  the  close  of  the  day's  fast.  The  coffee- 
shops  were  already  crowded  with  lean  and  hungry  customers, 
the  pipes  were  filled  and  lighted,  and  the  coffee  smoked  in  the 
finjans.  In  half  a  minute  such  whiffs  arose  on  all  sides  as  it 
would  have  cheered  the  heart  °if  a  genuine  smoker  to  l>ehold 


THE    NEW    KHAN.  291 

Out  of  these  cheerful  places  we  passed  into  otner  streets  which 
were  entirely  deserted,  the  inhabitants  being  at  dinner.  It 
had  a  weird,  uncomfortable  effect  to  ride  through  streets 
where  the  clatter  of  our  horses'  hoofs  was  the  only  sound  of 
life.  At  last  we  reached  the  entrance  to  a  bazaar,  and  near  il 
a  khan — a  new  khan,  very  neatly  built,  and  with  a  spare  rooir 
so  much  better  than  we  expected,  that  we  congratulated  our- 
selves heartily.  We  unpacked  in  a  hurry,  and  Francois  rac 
off  to  the  bazaar,  from  which  he  speedily  returned  with  some 
roast  kid,  cucumbers,  and  cherries.  We  lighted  two  lamps,  I 
borrowed  the  oda-bashi's  narghileh,  and  Francois,  learning  that 
it  was  our  national  anniversary,  procured  us  a  flask  of  Greek 
wine,  that  we  might  do  it  honor.  The  beverage,  however, 
resembled  a  mixture  of  vinegar  and  sealing-wax,  and  we  con- 
tented ourselves  with  drinking  patriotic  toasts,  in  two  finjaus 
of  excellent  coffee.  But  in  the  midst  of  our  enjoyment,  hap- 
pening to  cast  my  eye  on  the  walls,  I  saw  a  sight  that  turned 
all  our  honey  into  gall.  Scores  on  scores — nay,  hundreds  on 
hundreds — of  enormous  bed-bugs  swarmed  on  the  plaster,  and 
were  already  descending  to  our  beds  and  baggage.  To  sleep 
there  was  impossible,  but  we  succeeded  in  getting  possession  of 
one  of  the  outside  balconies,  where  we  made  our  beds,  aftei 
searching  them  thoroughly. 

In  the  evening  a  merchant,  who  spoke  a  little  Arabic,  came 
up  to  me  and  asked :  "Is  not  your  Excellency's  friend  the 
lakim  pasha!"  (chief  physican).  I  did  not  venture  to  asseut, 
but  replied  :  "  No  ;  he  is  a  sowakh."  This  was  beyond  hia 
comprehension,  and  he  went  away  with  the  impression  that 
Mr.  H.  was  much  greater  than  a  hakim  pasha.  I  slept  soundlj 
on  my  out-doors  bed,  but  was  awakened  towards  morning  by 


292  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

two  tremendous  claps  of  thunder,  echoing  in  the  gorge,  and  the 
rattling  of  rain  on  the  roof  of  the  khan. 

I  spent  two  or  three  hours  next  morning  in  taking  a  survey 
of  Kiutahya.  The  town  is  much  larger  than  I  had  supposed  : 
I  should  judge  it  to  contain  from  fifty  to  sixty  thousand  inhabi 
tauts.  The  situation  is  remarkable,  and  gives  a  picturesque 
effect  to  the  place  when  seen  from  above,  which  makes  one 
forget  its  internal  filth.  It  is  built  in  the  mouth  of  a  gorge, 
and  around  the  bases  of  the  hills  on  either  side.  The  lofty 
mountains  which  rise  behind  it  supply  it  with  perpetual  springs 
of  pure  water.  At  every  dozen  steps  you  come  upon  a  foun- 
tain, and  every  large  street  has  a  brook  in  the  centre.  The 
houses  are  all  two  and  many  of  them  three  stories  high,  with 
hanging  balconies,  which  remind  me  much  of  Switzerland 
The  bazaars  are  very  extensive,  covering  all  the  base  of  the  hill 
on  which  stands  the  ancient  citadel.  "  The  goods  displayed  were 
mostly  European  cotton  fabrics,  quincaillerie,  boots  and  slippers, 
pipe-sticks  and  silks.  In  the  parts  devoted  to  the  produce  of 
the  country,  I  saw  very  fine  cherries,  cucumbers  and  lettuce, 
and  bundles  of  magnificent  clover,  three  to  four  feet  high. 

We  climbed  a  steep  path  to  the  citadel,  which  covers  thq 
summit  of  an  abrupt,  isolated  hill,  connected  by  a  shoulder 
with  the  great  range.  The  walls  are  nearly  a  mile  in  circuit, 
consisting  almost  wholly  of  immense  circular  buttresses,  placed 
so  near  each  other  that  they  almost  touch.  The  connecting 
walls  are  broken  down  on  the  northern  side,  so  that  from  below 
the  buttresses  have  the  appearance  of  enormous  shattered 
columns.  They  are  built  of  rough  stones,  with  regular  layers 
of  tiat,  burnt  bricks.  On  the  highest  part  of  the  hill  stands 
the  fortress,  or  stronghold,  a  place  which  must  have  beer 


THE     CITADEL    OF     KIOTAHrA.  298 

almost  impregnable  before  the  invention  of  caanon.  The  struc- 
ture probably  dates  from  the  ninth  or  tenth  century,  but  U 
built  on  the  foundations  of  more  ancient  edifices.  The  old 
Greek  city  of  Cotyaeum  (whence  Kiutahya)  probably  stood 
ipon  this  hill.  Within  the  citadel  is  an  upper  town,  contain- 
ing about  a  hundred  houses,  the  residence,  apparently  of  poor 
families. 

From  the  circuit  of  the  walls,  on  every  side,  there  are  grand 
views  over  the  plain,  the  city,  and  the  gorges  of  the  moun- 
tains behind.  The  valley  of  the  Pursek,  freshened  by  the  last 
night's  shower,  spread  out  a  sheet  of  vivid  green,  to  the  pine- 
covered  mountains  which  bounded  it  on  all  sides.  Around 
the  city  it  was  adorned  with  groves  and  gardens,  and,  in  the 
direction  of  Brousa,  white  roads  went  winding  away  to  other 
gardens  and  villages  in  the  distance.  The  mountains  of 
Phrygia,  through  which  we  had  passed,  were  the  loftiest  in 
the  circle  that  inclosed  the  valley.  The  city  at  our  feet  pre- 
sented a  thick  array  of  red-tiled  roofs,  out  of  which  rose  here 
and  there  the  taper  shaft  of  a  minaret,  or  the  dome  of  a 
mosque  or  bath.  From  the  southern  side  of  the  citadel,  we 
looked  down  into  the  gorge  which  supplies  Kiutahya  with 
water — a  wild,  desert  landscape  of  white  crags  and  shattered 
oeaks  of  gray  rock,  hanging  over  a  narrow  winding  bed  of  the 
greenest  foliage. 

Instead  of  taking  the  direct  road  to  Brousa,  we  decided  1 1 
make  a  detour  of  two  days,  in  order  tc  visit  the  ruins  of  the  old 
Greek  city  of  (Ezaui,  which  are  thirty -six  miles  south  of  Kiu- 
tahya. Leaving  at  noon,  we  ascended  the  gorge  behind  the 
city,  by  delightfully  embowered  paths,  at  first  under  the  eavei 
of  superb  walnut-trees,  and  then  through  wild  thickets  of  wiL 


294  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

low,  hazel,  privet,  and  other  shrubs,  tangled  togeiher  with  lh« 
odorous  white  honeysuckle.  Near  the  city,  the  mount  ain-sidci 
were  bare  white  masses  of  gypsum  and  other  rock,  in  many 
places  with  the  p  irest  chrome-yellow  hue  ;  but  as  we  advanced, 
they  were  clothed  to  the  summit  with  copsewood.  The  streams 
that  foamed  down  these  pereuuial  heights  were  led  into  buried 
channels,  to  come  to  light  again  in  sparkling  fountains,  pouring 
into  ever-full  stone  basins.  The  day  was  cool  and  cloudy,  and 
the  heavy  shadows  which  hung  on  the  great  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain gateway,  heightened,  by  contrast,  the  glory  of  the  sunlit 
plain  seen  through  them. 

After  passing  the  summit  ridge,  probably  5,000  feet  above 
the  sea,  we  came  upon  a  wooded,  hilly  region,  stretching  away 
in  long  misty  lines  to  Murad  Dagh,  whose  head  was  spotted 
with  snow.  There  were  patches  of  wheat  and  rye  in  the  hol- 
lows, and  the  bells  of  distant  herds  tinkled  occasionally  among 
the  trees.  There  was  no  village  on  the  road,  and  we  were  OP 
the  way  to  one  which  we  saw  in  the  distance,  when  we  came 
upon  a  meadow  of  good  grass,  with  a  small  stream  running 
through  it.  Here  we  encamped,  sending  Achmet,  the  katur- 
gee,  to  the  village  for  milk  and  eggs.  The  ewes  had  just  been 
milked  for  the  suppers  of  their  owners,  but  they  went  over  the 
flock  again,  stripping  their  udders,  which  greatly  improved 
the  quality  of  the  milk.  The  night  was  so  cold  that  I  could 
scarcely  sleep  during  the  morning  hours.  There  was  a  chill, 
heavy  dew  on  the  meadow  ;  but  when  Francois  awoke  me  at 
gunris?,  the  sky  was  splendidly  clear  and  pure,  and  the  earlj 
beams  had  a  little  warmth  in  them.  Our  coffee,  before  start 
ing,  made  with  sheep's  milk,  was  the  richest  I  ever  drank. 

After  riding  for  two  hours  across  broad,  wild  ridges,  coverec 


THE    RUINS    UF    lEZAM.  295 

trith  cedar,  we  reached  a  height  overlooking  the  valley  of  the1 
Rhyndacus,  or  rather  the  plain  whence  he  draws  his  sources — 
a  circular  level,  ten  or  twelve  miles  in  diameter,  and  contract- 
ing towards  the  west  into  a  narrow  dell,  through  which  hi* 
raters  find  outlet ;  several  villages,  each  embowered  in  gar 
ilens,  were  scattered  along  the  bases  of  the  hills  that  inclose  it 
We  took  the  wrong  road,  but  were  set  aright  by  a  herdsman, 
und  after  threading  a  lane  between  thriving  grain-fields,  were 
cheeved  by  the  sight  of  the  Temple  of  (Ezani,  lifted  on  its 
acropolis  above  the  orchards  of  Chavdiir,  and  standing  out 
sharp  and  clear  against  the  purple  ot  the  hills. 

Our  approach  to  the  city  was  marked  b)  the  blocks  of  sculp- 
tured marble  that  lined  the  way  :  elegant  mouldings,  cornices, 
and  enta'blatures,  thrown  together  with  common  stone  to  make 
walls  between  the  fields.  The  village  is  built  on  both  sides  of 
the  Rhyndacus  ;  it  is  an  ordinary  Turkish  hamlet,  with  tiled 
roofs  and  chimneys,  and  exhibits  very  few  of  the  remains  of 
the  old  city  in  its  composition.  This,  I  suspect,  is  owing  to 
the  great  size  of  the  hewn  blocks,  especially  of  the  pillars, 
cornices,  and  entablatures,  nearly  all  of  which  are  from  twelve 
to  fifteen  feet  long.  It  is  from  the  size  and  number  of  these 
scattered  blocks,  rather  than  from  the  buildings  which  still 
partially  exist,  that  one  obtains  an  idea  of  the  size  and  splen- 
dor of  the  ancient  (Ezani.  The  place  is  filled  with  fragments, 
especiallj  of  columns,  of  which  there  are  several  hundred, 
nearly  all  finely  fluted.  The  Rhyndacus  is  still  spanned  by  an 
ancient  bridge  of  three  arches,  and  both  banks  are  lined  with 
pieis  of  hewn  stone.  Tall  poplars  and  massy  walnuts  of  the 
richest  green  shade  the  clear  waters,  and  there  are  many  pic- 
turesque combinations  of  foliagt-  and  ruin — death  and  life — 


296  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

which  would  charm  a  painter's  eye.  Near  the  bridge  we 
stopped  to  examine  a  pile  of  immense  fragments  which  hare 
been  thrown  together  by  the  Turks — pillars,  cornices,  altars, 
pieces  of  a  frieze,  with  bulls'  heads  bound  together  by  hanging 
garlands,  and  a  large  square  block,  with  a  legible  tablet.  It 
resembled  an  altar  in  form,  and,  from  the  word  " Artemidoron,11 
appeared  to  have  belonged  to  some  temple  to  Diana. 

Passing  through  the  village  we  came  to  a  grand  artificial 
platform  on  its  western  side,  called  the  Acropolis.  It  is  of 
solid  masonry,  five  hundred  feet  square,  and  averaging  ten  feet 
in  height.  On  the  eastern  side  it  is  supported  on  rude  though 
massive  arches,  resembling  Etruscan  workmanship.  On  the 
top  and  around  the  edges  of  this  platform  lie  great  numbers  of 
fluted  columns,  and  immense  fragments  of  cornice  and  archi- 
trave In  the  centre,  on  a  foundation  platform  about  eight 
feet  high,  stands  a  beautiful  Ionic  temple,  one  hundred  feet  in 
length.  On  approaching,  it  appeared  nearly  perfect,  except 
the  roof  and  so  many  of  the  columns  remain  standing  that  its 
ruined  condition  scarcely  injures  the  effect.  There  are  seventeen 
columns  on  the  side  and  eight  at  the  end,  Ionic  in  style,  fluted, 
and  fifty  feet  in  height.  About  half  the  cella  remains,  with  an 
elegant  frieze  and  cornice  along  the  top,  and  a  series  of  tablets, 
set  in  panels  of  ornamental  sculpture,  running  along  the  sides. 
The  front  of  the  cella  includes  a  small  open  peristyle,  with  twc 
composite  Corinthian  columns  at  the  entrance,  making,  with 
those  of  the  outer  colonnade,  eighteen  columns  standing.  The 
tablets  contain  Greek  inscriptions,  perfectly  legible,  where  the 
itono  has  not  been  shattered.  Under  the  temple  there  are  large 
vaults,  which  we  found  filled  up  with  young  kids,  who  had 
gone  in  there  to  escape  the  heat  of  tin1  sun.  The  portico  wan 


TH«   THEATRE    AND   STADIUM.  291 

occupied  by  sheep,  which  at  first  refused  to  make  room  for  us, 
tad  gave  strong  olfactory  evidence  of  their  partiality  for  the 
temple  as  a  resting-place. 

On  the  side  of  a  hill,  about  three  hundred  yards  to  the 
north,  are  the  remains  of  a  theatre.  Crossing  some  patches  of 
barley  and  lentils,  we  entered  a  stadium,  forming  an  extension 
of  the  theatre — that  is,  it  took  the  same  breadth  and  direction, 
so  that  the  two  might  be  considered  as  one  grand  work,  more 
than 'one  thousand  feet  long  by  nearly  four  hundred  wide. 
The  walls  of  the  stadium  are  hurled  down,  except  an  entrance 
of  five  arches  of  massive  masonry,  on  the  western  side.  We 
rode  up  the  artificial  valley,  between  high,  grassy  hills,  com- 
pletely covered  with  what  at  a  distance  resembled  loose  boards, 
but  which  were  actually  the  long  marble  seats  of  the  stadium. 
Urging  our  horses  over  piles  of  loose  blocks,  we  reached  the 
base  of  the  theatre,  climbed  the  fragments  that  cumber  the 
main  entrance,  and  looked  on  the  spacious  arena  and  galleries 
within.  Although  greatly  ruined,  the  materials  of  the  whole 
structure  remain,  and  might  be  put  together  again.  It  is  a 
grand  wreck  ;  the  colossal  fragments  which  have  tumbled  from 
the  arched  proscenium  fill  the  arena,  and  the  rows  of  seats, 
though  broken  and  disjointed,  still  retain  their  original  order 
It  is  somewhat  more  than  a  semicircle,  the  radius  being  about 
one  hundred  and  eighty  feet.  The  original  height  was  upwards 
of  fifty  feet,  and  there  were  fifty  rows  of  seats  in  all, 
each  row  capable  of  seating  two  hundred  persons,  so  that 
the  number  of  spectators  who  could  be  accommodated  was 
eight  thousand. 

The  fragments  cumbering  the  arena  were  enormous,  and 
highly  interesting  from  their  character.  There  were  rid 

13* 


298  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

blocffg  of  cornice,  ten  feet  long  ;  fluted  and  reeded  pillars 
great  arcs  of  heavily-carved  sculpture,  which  appeared  to  havt 
served  as  architraves  from  pillar  to  pillar,  along  the  face  of 
the  proscenium,  where  there  was  every  trace  of  having  been  a 
colonnade  ;  and  other  blocks  sculptured  with  figures  of  nni- 
tnals  in  alto-relievo.  There  were  generally  two  figures  on  each 
block,  and  among  those  which  could  be  recognized  were  the 
dog  and  the  lion.  Doors  opened  from  the  proscenium  into  the 
retiring-rooms  of  the  actors,  under  which  were  the  vaults 
where  the  beasts  were  kept.  A  young  fox  or  jackal  started 
from  his  siesta  as  we  entered  the  theatre,  and  took  refuge 
under  the  loose  blocks.  Looking  backwards  through  the 
stadium  from  the  seats  of  the  theatre,  we  had  a  lovely  view  of 
the  temple,  standing  out  clear  and  bright  in  the  midst  of  the 
summer  plain,  with  the  snow-streaked  summits  of  Murad  Dagb 
in  the  distance.  It  was  a  picture  which  I  shall  long  remem- 
oer.  The  desolation  of  the  magnificent  ruins  was  made  all 
the  more  impressive  by  the  silent,  solitary  air  of  the  region 
around  them. 

Leaving  Chavdur  in  the  afternoon,  we  struck  northward, 
down  the  valley  of  the  Rbyndacus,  over  tracts  of  rolling  land, 
interspersed  with  groves  of  cedar  and  pine.  There  were  so 
many  branch  roads  and  crossings  that  we  could  not  fail  to  go 
wrong  ;  and  after  two  or  three  hours  found  ourselves  in 
the  midst  of  a  forest,  on  the  broad  top  of  a  mountain,  without 
nny  road  at  all.  There  were  some  herdsmen  tending  their 
flocks  near  at  hand,  but  they  could  give  us  no  satisfactory 
direction.  We  thereupon  took  our  own  course,  and  soon 
brought  up  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  overhanging  a  deep 
ralley.  Away  to  the  eastward  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 


JAMP   AT   DAGHJE    KOI.  209 

Rhyndacns,  and  the  wooden  minaret  of  a  little  village  on  nis 
banks.  Following  the  edge  of  the  precipice,. we  came  at  last 
to  a  glen,  down  which  ran  a  rough  footpath  that  finally 
conducted  us,  by  a  long  road  through  the  forests,  to  thf. 
Tillage  of  Daghje  Koi,  where  we  are  now  encamped. 

The  place  seems  to  be  devoted  to  the  making  of  flints,  and 
the  streets  are  filled  with  piles  of  the  chipped  fragments.  Our 
tent  is  pitched  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  in  a  barren  meadow 
The  people  tell  us  that  the  whole  region  round  about  has  just 
been  visited  by  a  plague  of  grasshoppers,  which  have  destroyed 
their  crops.  Our  beasts  have  wandered  off  to  the  hills, 
in  search  for  grass,  and  the  disconsolate  Hadji  is  hunting 
them.  Achmet,  the  katurgee,  lies  near  the  fire,  sick  ;  Mr 
Harrison  complains  of  fever,  and  Francois  moves  about  lan- 
guidly, with  a  dismal  countenance.  So  here  we  are  in  th«  soli 
tndes  of  Bithynia,  but  there  is  no  God  but  God,  ano  that 
which  is  destined  comes  to  pass. 


300  THE     LANDS    OF    THK     SARACEN. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE     MTSIAN     OLYMPUS. 

I9«ruey  Down  the  Valky — The  Plague  of  Grasshoppers — A  Defile— The  Town  cf  Tau 
shanlii — The  Camp  of  Famine — We  leave  tne  Rhyndacus — The  Base  cf  Olympus- 
Primeval  Forests — The  Guard-House — Scenery  of  the  Summit — Forests  of  Beech- 
Saw-Mills — Descent  of  the  Mountain — The  View  of  Olympus — Morning — The  Land  of 
Harvest — Aineghiol — A  Showery  Ride — The  Plain  of  Brousa — The  Structure  of  Olym 
pus — We  reach  Brousa — The  Tent  is  Furled. 

"  I  looked  yet  farther  and  higher,  and  saw  in  the  heavens  a  silvery  cloud  that  stood 
fast,  and  still  against  the  breeze  ;  *  *  *  *  and  so  it  was  as  a  sign  and  a  testimony— 
almost  as  a  call  from  the  neglected  gods,  that  I  now  saw  and  acknowledged  the  snowy 
crown  of  the  Mysian  Olympus !"  KINQOKK. 

BROCSA,  July  9, 1852. 

PROM  Daghje  Koi,  there  were  two  roads  to  Taushanlu,  but  the 
people  informed  us  that  the  one  which  led  across  the  moun- 
tains was  difficult  to  find,  and  almost  impracticable.  We 
therefore  took  the  river  road,  which  we  found  picturesque  in 
the  highest  degree.  The  narrow  dell  of  the  Rhyndacus  wound 
through  a  labyrinth  of  mountains,  sometimes  turning  at  sharp 
angles  between  craggy  buttresses,  covered  with  forests,  and 
sometimes  broadening  out  into  a  sweep  of  valley,  where  the 
villagers  were  working  in  companies  among  the  grain  and 
poppy  fields.  The  banks  of  the  stream  were  lined  with  oak, 
willow  and  sycamore,  and  forests  of  pine,  descending  from  the 
mountains,  frequently  overhung  the  road.  We  met  numbers 


THE  PLAGUE  OF  GRASSHOPPERS.  301 

of  peasants,  going  to  and  from  the  fields,  and  once  a  company 
of  some  twenty  women,  who,  on  seeing  us,  clustered  together 
like  a  flock  of  frightened  sheep,  and  threw  their  mantles  over 
their  heads.  They  had  curiosity  enough,  however,  to  peep  at 
ns  as  we  went  by,  and  I  made  them  a  salutation,  whicL  they 
returned,  and  then  burst  into  a  chorus  of  hearty  laughter.  All 
this  region  was  ravaged  by  a  plague  of  grasshoppers.  The 
earth  was  black  with  them  in  many  places,  and  our  horses 
ploughed  up  a  living  spray,  as  they  drove  forward  through  the 
meadows.  Every  spear  of  grass  was  destroyed,  and  the  wheat 
and  rye  fields  were  terribly  cut  up.  We  passed  a  large  crag 
where  myriads  of  starlings  had  built  their  nests,  and  every 
starling  had  a  grasshopper  in  his  mouth. 

We  crossed  the  river,  in  order  to  pass  a  narrow. defile,  by 
which  it  forces  its  way  through  the  rocky  heights  of  Dumanidj 
Dagh.  Soon  after  passing  the  ridge,  a  broad  and  beautiful 
valley  expanded  before  us.  It  was  about  ten  miles  in  breadth, 
nearly  level,  and  surrounded  by  picturesque  ranges  of  wooded 
mountains.  It  was  well  cultivated,  principally  in  rye  and  pop- 
pies, and  more  thickly  populated  than  almost  any  part  of 
Europe.  The  tinned  tops  of  the  minarets  of  Taushanlii  shone 
over  the  top  of  a  hill  in  front,  and  there  was  a  large  towj 
nearly  opposite,  on  the  other  bank  of  the  Rhyndacus,  and 
seven  small  villages  scattered  about  in  various  directions.  Most 
of  the  latter,  however,  were  merely  the  winter  habitations  of 
the  herdsmen,  who  are  now  living  in  tents  on  ths  mountain 
tops  All  over  the  valley,  the  peasants  were  at  work  in  the 
harvest-fields,  cutting  and  binding  grain,  gathering  opium  from 
the  poppies,  or  weeding  the  young  tobacco.  In  the  south,  over 
the  rim  of  the  hill?  that  shut  in  this  pastoral  solitude,  rose  th« 


302  THE  LANDS  OK  THE  SARACEN. 

long  blue  summits  of  Urus  Dagh.  We  rode  into  Taushanlii 
which  is  a  long  town.  Glling  up  a  hollow  between  two  stony 
hills.  The  houses  are  all  of  stone,  two  stories  high,  with  tiled 
roofs  and  chimneys,  so  that,  but  for  the  clapboarded  and 
shingled  minarets,  it  would  answer  for  a  North-Geruiaii 
tillage. 

The  streets  were  nearly  deserted,  and  even  in  the  bazaars, 
w  hich  are  of  some  extent,  we  found  but  few  persons.  Those 
few,  however,  showed  a  laudable  curijsity  with  regard  to  us, 
clustering  about  us  whenever  we  stopped,  and  staring  at 
us  with  provoking  pertinacity.  We  had  some  difficulty  iu 
procuring  information  concerning  the  road,  the  directions  being 
so  contradictory  that  we  were  as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever. 
We  lost  half  an  hour  in  wandering  among  the  hills  ;  and,  after 
travelling  four  hours  over  piny  uplands,  without  finding  the 
village  of  Kara  Koi,  encamped  on  a  dry  plain,  on  the  western 
bank  of  the  river.  There  was  not  a  spear  of  grass  for  the 
beasts,  everything  being  eaten  up  by  the  grasshoppers,  and 
there  were  no  Turcomans  near  who  could  supply  us  with  food. 
So  we  dined  on  hard  bread  and  black  coffee,  and  our  forlorn 
beasts  walked  languidly  about,  cropping  the  dry  stalks  of  weeds 
and  the  juiceless  roots  of  the  dead  grass. 

We  crossed  the  river  next  morning,  and  took  a  road  follow- 
ing its  course,  and  shaded  with  willows  and  sycamores.  The 
lofty,  wooded  ranges  of  the  Mysiau  Olympus  lay  before  us 
s.iul  our  day's  work  was  to  pass  them.  After  passing  the  vil- 
lage of  Kara  Koi,  we  left  the  valley  of  the  Rhyudacus,  and 
commenced  ascending  one  of  the  long,  projecting  spurs  thrust 
oat  from  the  main  chain  of  Olympus.  At  first  we  rode 
through  thickets  of  scrubby  cedar,  but  soon  came  to  magnifi 


PRIMEVAL    FORESTS  303 

cent  pine  k/rests,  that  grow  taller  and  sturdier  tnt  higher  we 
clomb.  A  superb  mountain  landscape  opened  behind  us.  The 
valleys  sank  deeper  and  deeper,  and  at  last  disappeared  behind 
the  great  ridges  that  heaved  themselves  out  of  the  wildernesi 
of  smaller  hills.  All  these  ridges  were  covered  with  forests  •, 
and  as  we  looked  backwards  out  of  the  tremendous  gulf  up  the 
sides  of  which  we  were  climbing,  the  scenery  was  wholly  wild 
and  uncultivated.  Our  path  hung  on  the  imminent  side 
of  a  chasm  so  steep  that  one  slip  might  have  been  destructioc 
to  both  horse  and  rider.  Far  below  us,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
chasm,  roared  an  invisible  torrent.  The  opposite  side,  vapory 
prom  its  depth,  rose  like  an  immense  wall  against  Heaven. 
The  pines  were  eveu  grander  than  those  in  the  woods  of 
Phrygia.  Here  they  grew  taller  and  more  dense,  hanging 
their  cloudy  boughs  over  the  giddy  depths,  and  clutching  with 
desperate  roots  to  the  almost  perpendicular  sides  of  the  gorges. 
In  many  places  they  were  the  primeval  forests  of  Olympus, 
and  the  Hamadryads  were  not  yet  frightened  from  their  haunts 
Thus,  slowly  toiling  up  through  the  sublime  wilderness, 
breathing  the  cold,  pure  air  of  those  lofty  regions,  we  came  at 
last  to  a  little  stream,  slowly  trickling  down  the  bed  of  the 
gorge.  It  was  shaded,  not  by  the  pine,  but  by  the  Northern 
beech,  with  its  white  trunk  and  close,  confidential  boughs, 
made  for  the  talks  of  lovers  and  Jhe  meditations  of  poets. 
Here  we  stopped  to  breakfast,  but  there  was  nothing  for  the 
poor  beasts  to  eat,  and  they  waited  for  us  droopingly,  with 
their  heads  thrust  together.  While  we  sat  there  three 
camels  descended  to  the  stream,  and  after  them  a  guard  with 
a  long  gun  He  was  a  well-made  man,  with  a  brown  face, 
keen,  black  eye,  and  piratical  air,  and  would  have  made  a 


804  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

hero  of  modern  romance.  Higher  up  we  came  to  a  guard 
house,  on  a  little  cleared  space,  surrounded  by  beech  forests 
It  was  a  rough  stone  hut,  with  a  white  flag  planted  on  a  pole 
before  it,  and  a  miniature  water-wheel,  running  a  miniature 
paw  at  a  most  destructive  rate,  beside  the  door. 

Continuing  our  way,  we  entered  on  a  region  such  as  I  had 
no  idea  could  be  found  in  Asia.  The  mountains,  from  the 
bottoms  of  the  gorges  to  their  topmost  summits,  were  covered 
with  the  most  superb  forests  of  beech  I  ever  saw — masses  of 
impenetrable  foliage,  of  the  most  brilliant  green,  touched  here 
and  there  by  the  darker  top  of  a  pine.  Our  road  was  through 
a  deep,  dark  shade,  and  on  either  side,  up  and  down,  we  saw 
but  a  cool,  shadowy  solitude,  sprinkled  with  dots  of  emerald 
light,  and  redolent  with  the  odor  of  damp  earth,  moss,  and 
dead  leaves.  It  was  a  forest,  the  counterpart  of  which  could 
only  be  found  in  America — such  primeval  magnitude  of  growth, 
such  wild  luxuriance,  such  complete  solitude  and  silence  ! 
Through  the  shafts  of  the  pines  we  had  caught  glorious 
glimpses  of  the  blue  mountain  world  below  us  ;  but  now  the 
beech  folded  us  in  its  arms,  and  whispered  in  our  ears  the 
legends  of  our  Northern  home.  There,  on  the  ridges  of  the 
Mysian  Olympus,  sacred  to  the  bright  gods  of  Grecian  song,  I 
found  the  inspiration  of  our  darker  and  colder  clime  and  age. 
"  O  gloriosi  spinti  degli  boschi  /" 

I  could  scarcely  contain  myself,  from  surprise  and  joy. 
Frui^ois  failed  to  find  French  adjectives  sufficient  for  his  admi- 
ration, and  even  our  cheating  katurgees  were  touched  by  the 
spirit  of  the  scene.  On  either  side,  whenever  a  glimpse  could 
be  had  through  the  bonirlis,  wo  looked  upon  leaning  walls  of 
trees,  whose  tall,  rounded  tops  basked  in  the  sunshine,  whil« 


THE     SUMMIT     OF     OLYMPUS.  306 

their  bases  were  wrapped  in  the  shadows  cast  by  themselves 
Thus,  folded  over  each  other  like  scales,  or  feathers  on  8 
falcon's  wing,  they  clad  the  mountain.  The  trees  were  taller, 
and  had  a  darker  and  more  glossy  leaf  than  the  American 
beech.  By  and  by  patches  of  blue  shone  between  the  boughs 
before  us,  a  sign  that  the  summit  was  near,  and  before  one 
o'clock  we  stood  upou  the  narrow  ridge  forming  the  crest  of 
the  mountain.  Here,  although  we  were  between  five  and  six 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  the  woods  of  beech  were  a 
hundred  feet  in  height,  and  shut  out  all  view.  On  the 
northern  side  the  forest  scenery  is  even  grander  than  on  the 
southern.  The  beeches  are  magnificent  trees,  straight  as  an 
arrow,  and  from  a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  height 
Only  now  and  then  could  we  get  any  view  beyond  the  shadow) 
depths  sinking  below  us,  and  then  it  was  only  to  see  similai 
mountain  ranges,  buried  in  foliage,  and  rolling  far  behind  each 
other  into  the  distance.  Twice,  in  the  depth  of  the  gorge,  we 
saw  a  saw-mill,  turned  by  the  snow-cold  torrents.  Piles  of 
pine  and  beechen  boards  were  heaped  around  them,  and  the 
sawyers  were  busily  plying  their  lonely  business.  The  axe  of 
the  woodman  echoed  but  rarely  through  the  gulfs,  though  many 
large  trees  lay  felled  by  the  roadside.  The  rock,  which 
occasionally  cropped  out  of  the  soil,  was  white  marble,  and 
there  was  a  shining  precipice  of  it,  three  hundred  feet  high,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  gorge. 

After  four  hours  of  steady  descent,  during  the  last  hoar  of 
which  we  passed  into  a  forest  entirely  of  oaks,  we  reached  the 
first  terrace  at  the  base  of  the  mountain.  Here,  as  I  was 
riding  in  advance  of  the  caravan,  I  met  a  company  of  Turkish 
officers,  who  saluted  me  with  an  inclination  of  the  most  pro 


308  THE  LANDS  OF  THP  SARACFN. 

found  reverence.  I  replied  with  due  Oriental  gravity,  whicl 
seemed  to  justify  their  respect,  for  when  they  met  Fra^oia, 
tfho  is  everywhere  looked  upon  as  a  Turkish  janissary,  th&y 
asked  :  "Is  not  your  master  a  Shekh  el-Islam ?"  "  You  art 
right :  he  is,"  answered  the  unscrupulous  Greek  A  Shekh 
el-Islam  is  a  sort  of  high-priest,  corresponding  in  dignity  to  a 
Cardinal  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  It  is  rather  singular 
that  I  am  generally  taken  for  a  Secretary  of  some  kind,  or  a 
Moslem  priest,  while  my  companion,  who,  by  this  time,  has 
assumed  the  Oriental  expression,  is  supposed  to  be  either  medi- 
cal or  military. 

We  had  no  sooner  left  the  forests  and  entered  the  copse- 
wood  which  followed,  than  the  blue  bulk  of  Olympus  suddenly 
appeared  in  the  west,  towering  far  into  the  sky.  It  is  a  niagni- 
ficent  mountain,  with  a  broad  though  broken  summit,  streaked 
with  snow.  Before  us,  stretching  away  almost  to  his  base,  lay 
a  grand  mountain  slope,  covered  with  orchards  and  golden 
harvest-fields.  Through  lanes  of  hawthorn  and  chestnut  trees 
in  blossom,  which  were  overgrown  with  snowy  clematis  and 
made  a  shady  roof  above  our  heads,  we  reached  the  little 
village  of  Orta  Koi,  and  encamped  in  a  grove  of  pear-trees. 
There  was  grass  for  our  beasts,  who  were  on  the  brink  of 
starvation,  and  fowls  and  cucumbers  for  ourselves,  who  had 
been  limited  to  bread  and  coffee  for  two  days.  But  as  one 
necessity  was  restored,  another  disappeared.  We  had  smoked 
the  last  of  our  delicious  Aleppo  tobacco,  and  that  which  the 
villagers  gave  us  was  of  very  inferior  quality.  Nevertheless, 
the  pipe  which  we  smoked  with  them  in  the  twilight,  beside  the 
marble  fountain,  promoted  that  peace  of  mind  which  is  tb» 
wsetest  preparative  of  slumber. 


THE    LAND    OF    HAKVEST.  301 

Francois  was  determined  to  fiuish  our  journey  to-day.  He 
had  a  preseutimeut  that  we  should  reach  Brousa,  although  I 
expected  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  called  us  long  before  th« 
lovely  pastoral  valley  in  which  we  lay  had  a  suspicion  of  the 
sun,  but  just  in  time  to  see  the  first  rays  strike  the  high  head 
of  Olympus.  The  long  lines  of  snow  blushed  with  an  opaline 
radiance  against  the  dark-blue  of  the  morning  sky,  and  all  the 
forests  and  fields  below  lay  still,  and  cool,  and  dewy,  lapped  ic 
dreams  yet  unrecalled  by  the  fading  moon.  I  bathed  my  face 
in  the  cold  well  that  perpetually  poured  over  its  full  brim, 
drank  the  coffee  which  FranQois  had  already  prepared,  sprang 
into  the  saddle,  and  began  the  last  day  of  our  long  pilgrimage. 
The  tent  was  folded,  alas  !  for  the  last  time  ;  and  now  fare- 
well to  the  freedom  of  our  wandering  life  !  Shall  I  ever  feel 
it  again  ? 

The  dew  glistened  on  the  chestnuts  and  the  walnuts,  on  the 
wild  grape-vines  and  wild  roses,  that  shaded  our  road,  as  we  fol- 
lowed the  course  of  an  Olympian  stream  through  a  charming 
dell,  into  the  great  plain  below.  Everywhere  the  same  bounti- 
ful soil,  the  same  superb  orchards,  the  same  ripe  fields  of  wheat 
and  barley,  and  silver  rye.  The  peasants  were  at  work,  men 
and  women,  cutting  the  grain  with  rude  scythes,  binding  it  into 
sheaves,  and  stacking  it  in  the  fields.  As  we  rode  over  the 
plain,  the  boys  came  running  out  to  us  with  handfuls  of  grain, 
saluting  us  from  afar,  bidding  us  welcome  as  pilgrims,  wishing 
as  as  many  years  of  prosperity  as  there  were  kernels  in  then 
sheaves,  and  kissing  the  hands  that  gave  them  the  harvest-toll. 
The  whole  landscape  had  an  air  of  plenty,  peace,  and  content- 
ment. The  people  all  greeted  us  cordially;  and  once  a  Mevlevi 
Dervish  and  a  stately  Turk,  riding  in  company,  saluted  me  sc 


308  THE  LANDS  OF  THK  SARACER. 

respectfully,  stopping  to  speak  with  me,  that  1  quite  regretted 
being  obliged  to  assume  an  air  of  dignified  reserve,  and  rid« 
away  from  them. 

Ere  long,  we  saw  the  two  white  minarets  of  Aineghiol, 
above  the  line  of  orchards  in  front  of  us,  and,  in  three  houn 
after  starting,  reached  the  place.  It  is  a  smiJl  town,  not  par 
ticularly  clean,  but  with  brisk-looking  bazaars.  In  one  of  the 
houses,  I  saw  half-a-dozen  pairs  of  superb  antlers,  the  spoils 
of  Olympian  stags.  The  bazaar  is  covered  with  a  trollised 
roof,  overgrown  with  grape-vines,  which  hang  enormous  bunches 
of  young  grapes  over  the  shop-boards.  We  were  cheered  by 
the  news  that  Brousa  was  only  eight  hours  distant,  and  I  now 
began  to  hope  that  we  might  reach  it.  We  jogged  on  as  fast 
as  we  could  urge  our  weary  horses,  passed  another  belt  of 
orchard  land,  paid  more  harvest-tolls  to  the  reapers,  and  com 
menced  ascending  a  chain  of  low  hills  which  divides  the  plait' 
of  Aineghiol  from  that  of  Brousa. 

At  a  fountain  called  the  ' '  mid-day  konnak"  we  met  some 
travellers  coming  from  Brousa,  who  informed  us  that  we  couid 
get  there  by  the  time  of  asser  prayer.  Rounding  the  north- 
eastern base  of  Olympus,  we  now  saw  before  us  the  long  head 
laud  which  forms  his  south-western  extremity.  A  storm  was 
arising  from  the  sea  of  Marmora,  and  heavy  white  clouds  set- 
tled on  the  topmost  summits  of  the  mountain.  The  wind  began 
to  blow  fresh  and  cool,  and  when  we  had  reached  a  height 
overlooking  the  deep  valley,  in  the  bottom  of  which  lies  the 
picturesque  village  of  Ak-su,  there  were  long  showery  iines 
coming  up  from  the  sea,  and  a  filmy  sheet  of  gray  rain 
descended  between  us  and  Olympus,  throwing  his  vast  bulk  far 
Into  the  background.  At  Ak-su,  the  first  shower  met  us,  pour 


THE     PI.AIX     OK     BROl'SA.  309 

tag  so  fast  and  thick  that  we  were  obliged  to  put  on  our  capotes 
and  halt  under  a  walnut-tree  for  shelter.  But  it  soon  passe-1 
over,  laying  the  dust,  for  the  time,  and  making  the  air  sweet 
and  cool. 

We  pushed  forward  ever  heights  covered  with  young  forests 
of  oak,  which  are  protected  by  the  government,  in  order  that 
they  may  furnish  ship-timber.  On  the  right,  we  looked  down 
into  magnificent  valleys,  opening  towards  the  west  into  the 
the  plain  of  Brousa  ;  but  when,  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
we  reached  the  last  height,  and  saw  the  great  plain  itself,  the 
climax  was  attained.  It  was  the  crown  of  all  that  we  had  yet 
Been.  This  superb  plain  or  valley,  thirty  miles  long,  by  five  in 
breadth,  spread  away  to  the  westward,  between  the  mighty 
mass  of  Olympus  on  the  one  side,  and  a  range  of  lofty  moun- 
tains on  the  other,  the  sides  of  which  presented  a  charming 
mixture  of  forest  and  cultivated  land.  Olympus,  covered  with 
woods  of  beech  and  oak,  towered  to  the  clouds  that  concealed 
his  snowy  head  ;  and  far  in  advance,  under  the  last  cape  he 
threw  out  towards  the  sea,  the  hundred  minarets  of  Brousa 
stretched  in  a  white  and  glittering  line,  like  the  masts  of  a 
navy,  whose  hulls  were  buried  in  the  leafy  sea.  No  words  can 
describe  the  beauty  of  the  valley,  the  blending  of  the  richest 
cultivation  with  the  wildest  natural  luxuriance.  Here  were 
gardens  and  orchards  ;  there  groves  of  superb  chestnut-trees 
in  blossom  ;  here,  fields  of  golden  grain  or  green  pasture-land  ; 
there,  Arcadian  thickets  overgrown  with  clematis  and  wild 
rose  ;  here,  lofty  poplars  growing  beside  the  streams  ;  there, 
spiry  cypresses  looking  down  from  the  slopes  :  and  all  blended 
In  one  whole,  so  rich,  so  grand,  so  gorgeous,  tl  at  I  scarcely 
Breathed  when  it  first  burst  upon  me. 


310  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEK 

And  nuw  we  descended  to  its  level,  and  rode  westward  along 
the  base  of  Olympus,  grandest  of  Asian  mountains  Thii 
after-storm  view,  although  his  head  was  shrouded,  was  sublime 
His  base  is  a  vast  sloping  terrace,  leagues  in  length,  restm 
bliug  the  flights*  of  steps  by  which  the  ancient  temples  were 
approached.  From  this  foundation  rise  four  mighty  pyramids, 
two  thousand  feet  in  height,  and  completely  mantled  with 
forests.  They  are  very  nearly  regular  in  their  form  and  size, 
and  are  flanked  to  the  east  and  west  by  headlands,  or  abut- 
ments, the  slopes  of  which  are  longer  and  more  gradual,  as  it 
to  strengthen  the  great. structure.  Piled  upon  the  four  pyra- 
mids are  others  nearly  as  large,  above  whose  green  pinnacles 
appear  still  other  and  higher  ones,  bare  and  bleak,  and  cluster- 
ing thickly  together,  to  uphold  the  great  central  dome  of  snow. 
Between  the  bases  of  the  lowest,  the  streams  which  drain  the 
gorges  of  the  mountain  issue  forth,  cutting  their  way  through 
the  foundation  terrace,  and  widening  their  beds  downwards  to 
the  plain,  like  the  throats  of  bugles,  where,  in  winter  rains, 
they  pour  forth  the  hoarse,  grand  monotone  of  their  Olympian 
music.  These  broad  beds  are  now  dry  and  stony  tracts,  dotted 
ill  over  with  clumps  of  dwarfed  sycamores  and  threaded  by 
the  summer  streams,  shrunken  in  bulk,  but  still  swift,  cold,  and 
clear  as  ever. 

We  reached  the  city  before  night,  and  Francois  is  glad  to 
find  his  presentiment  fulfilled.  We  have  safely  passed  through 
the  untravelled  heart  of  Asia  Minor,  and  are  now  almost  iu 
gight  of  Europe.  The  camp-fire  is  extinguished  ;  the  tent  is 
furled.  We  are  no  longer  happy  nomads,  masquerading  in 
Moslem  garb.  We  shall  soon  become  prosaic  Christians,  and 
meekly  hold  out  our  wrists  for  the  handcuffs  of  Civilization 


THE    TENT     IS     FTRLBTP 


311 


A.h,  prate  as  we  will  of  the  progress  of  the  rac  ,  we  are  but 
forging  additional  fetters,  unless  we  preserve  thaf  lealthy  phy- 
sical development,  those  pare  pleasures  of  mere  .nimal  exist 
ence,  which  are  now  only  to  be  found  among  out  r.mi-barbaric 
brethren.  Oar  progress  is  nervous,  when  it  si  -aid  be  mus- 
cular. 


312  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

BROUSA     AND     THE     SEA     OF     MARMORA. 

The  City  of  Bronsa— Return  to  Civilisation— Storm— The  Kalputcha  Hammam  -A  Bol 
Bath — A  Foretaste  of  Paradise — The  Streets  and  Bazaars  of  Brousa — The  Mosque— 
The  Tombs  of  the  Ottoman  Sultans — Disappearance  of  the  Katurgees — We  start  foi 
Meudania — The  Sea  of  Marmora — Moudania — Passport  Difficulties — A  Greek  Caique 
— Breakfast  with  the  Fishermen — A  Torrid  Voyage— The  Princes'  Islands — Prinkiio- 
Distant  View  of  Constantinople— We  enter  the  Golden  Horn. 

"And  we  glode  fast  o'er  a  pellucid  plain 
Of  waters,  azure  with  the  noontide  ray. 
Ethereal  mountains  shone  around — a  fane 
Stood  in  the  midst,  beyond  green  isles  which  lay 
On  the  blue,  sunny  deep,  resplendent  far  away." 

SHKLLBT. 

OoirsTAimsopLB,  Monday,  July  12, 1852 

BEFORE  entering  Brousa,  we  passed  the  whole  length  of  the 
town,  which  is  built  on  the  side  of  Olympus,  and  on  three 
bluffs  or  spurs  wjiich  project  from  it.  The  situation  is  more 
picturesque  than  that  of  Damascus,  and  from  the  remarkable 
number  of  its  white  domes  and  minarets,  shooting  upward  from 
the  groves  of  chestnut,  walnut,  and  cypress-trees,  the  city  is 
even  more  beautiful  There  are  large  mosques  on  all  the  most 
prominent  points,  and,  near  the  centre  of  the  city,  the  ruins  of 
an  ancient  castle,  built  upon  a  crag.  The  place,  as  we  rode 
along,  presented  a  shifting  diorama  of  delightful  views.  The 
hotel  is  at  the  extreme  western  end  of  the  city,  not  far  from  it* 


RKTURN    TO     CIVILIZATION STORM  813 

celebrated  hot  baths.  It  is  a  new  building,  in  European  style, 
and  being  built  high  on  the  slope,  commands  one  of  the  most 
glorious  prospects  I  ever  enjoyed  from  windows  made  with 
hands.  What  a  comfort  it  was  to  go  up  stairs  into  a  clean, 
bright,  cheerful  room  ;  to  drop  at  full  length  on  a  bread  divan  ; 
to  eat  a  Christian  meal  ;  to  smoke  a  narghileh  of  the  softest 
Persian  tobacco  ;  and  finally,  most  exquisite  o?  all  luxuries,  to 
creep  between  cool,  clean  sheets,  on  a  curtained  bed,  and  find 
:t  impossible  to  sleep  on  account  of  the  delicious  novelty  of  the 
sensation  1 

At  night,  another  storm  came  up  from  the  Sea  of  Marmora 
Tremendous  peals  of  thunder  echoed  in  the  gorges  of  Olympus 
and  sharp,  broad  flashes  of  lightning  gave  us  blinding  glimpses 
of  the  glorious  plain  below.  The  rain  fell  in  heavy  showers, 
but  our  tent-life  was  just  closed,  and  we  sat  securely  at  our 
windows  and  enjoyed  the  sublime  scene. 

The  sun,  rising  over  the  distant  mountains  of  Isnik,  shone 
full  in  my  face,  awaking  me  to  a  morning  view  of  the  valley, 
which,  freshened  by  the  night's  thunder-storm,  shone  wonder- 
fully bright  and  clear.  After  coffee,  we  went  to  see  the  baths, 
which  are  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  a  mile  from  the  hotel 
The  finest  one,  called  the  Kalputcha  Hammam,  is  at  the  base 
of  the  hill.  The  entrance  hall  is  very  large,  and  covered  by  two 
lofty  domes.  In  the  centre  is  a  large  marble  urn-shaped  foun- 
tain, pouring  out  an  abundant  flood  of  cold  water.  Out  of ' 
this,  we  passed  into  an  immense  rotunda,  filled  with  steam  and 
traversed  by  long  pencils  of  light,  falling  from  holes  in  the  roof. 
A  small  but  very  beautiful  marble  fountain  cast  up  a  jet  of  cold 
water  in  the  centre.  Beyond  this  was  still  another  hall,  of  the 
.ame  size,  but  with  a  circular  basin,  twenty-five  feet  in  diame 

14 


814  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

ter,  in  the  centre.  The  floor  was  marble  mosaic,  and  the  basit 
was  lined  with  brilliantly-colored  tiles.  It  was  kept  constantly 
fall  by  the  natural  hot  streams  of  the  mountain.  There  were 
a  number  of  persons  in  the  pool,  but  the  atmosphere  was  9-1 
hot  that  we  did  not  long  disturb  them  by  our  curiosity. 

We  then  ascended  to  the  Armenian  bath,  which  is  the 
neatest  of  all,  but  it  was  given  up  to  the  women,  and  we  were 
therefore  obliged  to  go  to  a  Turkish  one  adjoining.  The  room 
into  which  we  were  taken  was  so  hot  that  a  violent  perspira- 
tion immediately  broke  out  all  over  my  body,  and  by  the  time 
the  ddleks  were  ready  to  rasp  me,  I  was  as  limp  as  a  wet  towel, 
and  as  plastic  as  a  piece  of  putty.  The  man  who  took  me  was 
sweated  away  almost  to  nothing  ;  his  very  bones  appeared  tc 
have  become  soft  and  pliable.  The  water  was  slightly  sulphu- 
reous, and  the  pailfuls  which  he  dashed  over  my  head  were  so 
hot  that  they  produced  the  effect  of  a  chill — a  violent  nervous 
shudder.  The  temperature  of  the  springs  is  180°  Fahrenheit, 
and  I  suppose  the  tank  into  which  he  afterwards  plunged  me 
must  have  been  nearly  up  to  the  mark.  When,  at  last,  I  was 
laid  on  the  couch,  my  body  was  so  parboiled  that  I  perspired 
at  all  pores  for  full  an  hour — a  feeling  too  warm  and  unpleasant 
at  first,  but  presently  merging  into  a  mood  which  was  wholly 
rapturous  and  heavenly.  I  was  like  a  soft  whi  ,e  cloud,  that 
rests  all  of  a  summer  afternoon  on  the  peak  of  a  distant  moun- 
tain. I  felt  the  couch  on  which  I  lay  no  more  than  the  cloud 
might  feel  the  cliffs  on  which  it  lingers  so  airily.  I  saw 
nothing  but  peaceful,  glorious  sights  ;  spaces  of  clear  blue 
sky  ;  stretches  of  quiet  lawns  ;  lovely  valleys  threaded  by  the 
gentlest  of  streams  ;  azure  lakes,  unruffled  by  a  breath  ; 
calms  far  out  on  mid-ocean,  and  Alpine  peaks  bathed  in  the 


THE     STREETS     OF     BROUSA.  315 

3ush  of  an  autumnal  sunset.  My  mind  retraced  all  GUI  jour- 
ney from  Aleppo,  and  there  was  a  balo  over  every  spot  I  had 
visited.  I  dwelt  with  rapture  on  the  piny  hills  of  Phrygia,  en 
the  gorges  of  Taurus,  on  the  beechen  solitudes  of  Olympus 
Would  to  heaven  that  I  might  describe  those  scenes  as  I  then 
felt  them  !  All  was  revealed  to  me  :  the  heart  of  Nature  lay 
bare,  and  I  read  the  meaning  and  knew  the  inspiration  of  hei 
every  mood.  Then,  as  my  frame  grew  cooler,  and  the  fragrant 
clouds  of  the  narghileh,  which  had  helped  my  dreams,  dimin- 
ished, I  was  like  that  same  summer  cloud,  when  it  feels  a 
gentle  breeze  and  is  lifted  above  the  hills,  floating  along  inde 
pendent  of  Earth,  but  for  its  shadow. 

Brousa  is  a  very  long,  straggling  place,  extending  for  three 
or  four  miles  along  the  side  of  the  mountain,  but  presenting  a 
very  picturesque  appearance  from  every  point.  The  houses 
are  nearly  all  three  stories  high,  built  of  wood  and  unburnt 
bricks,  and  each  story  projects  over  the  other,  after  the  manner 
of  German  towns  of  the  Middle  Ages.  They  have  not  the 
hanging  balconies  which  I  have  found  so  quaint  and  pleasing 
in  Kiutahya.  But,  especially  in  the  Greek  quarter,  many  of 
them  are  plastered  and  painted  of  some  bright  color,  which 
gives  a  gay,  cheerful  appearance  to  the  streets.  Besides, 
Brousa  is  the  cleanest  Turkish  town  I  have  seen.  The  moun- 
tain streams  traverse  most  of  the  streets,  and  every  heavy  rain 
washes  them  out  thoroughly.  The  whole  city  has  a  brisk, 
active  air,  and  the  workmen  appear  both  more  skilful  and 
more  industrious  than  in  the  other  parts  of  Asia  Minor.  I 
noticed  a  great  many  workers  in  copper,  iron,  and  wood,  aud 
an  extensive  manufactory  of  shoes  and  saddles.  Brousa,  how- 
ever, is  principally  noted  for  its  silks,  which  are  pioduoed  in 


31ft  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  ?ARACEN 

this  valley,  and  others  to  the  South  and  East.  The  manufac 
tories  are  near  the  city.  I  looked  over  some  of  the  fabrics  iu 
the  bazaars,  but  found  them  nearly  all  imitations  of  European 
stuffs,  woven  in  mixed  silk  and  cotton,  and  even  more  costly 
than  the  silks  of  Damascus. 

We  passed  the  whole  length  of  the  bazaars,  and  then, 
turning  up  one  of  the  side  streets  on  our  right,  crossed  a 
deep  ravine  by  a  high  stone  bridge.  Above  and  below 
as  there  were  other  bridges,  under  which  a  stream  flowed 
down  from  the  mountains.  Thence  we  ascended  the  height, 
whereon  stands  the  largest  and  one  of  the  oldest  mosques  in 
Brousa.  The  position  is  remarkably  fine,  commanding  a  view 
of  nearly  the  whole  city  and  the  plain  below  it.  We  entered 
the  court-yard  boldly,  Fran9ois  taking  the  precaution  to  speak 
to  me  only  in  Arabic,  as  there  was  a  Turk  within.  Mr.  H. 
went  to  the  fountain,  washed  his  hands  and  face,  but  did  not 
dare  to  swallow  a  drop,  putting  on  a  most  dolorous  expression 
of  countenance,  as  if  perishing  with  thirst.  The  mosque  was 
a  plain,  square  building,  with  a  large  dome  and  two  minarets. 
The  door  was  a  rich  and  curious  specimen  of  the  staladitic 
style,  so  frequent  in  Saracenic  buildings.  We  peeped  into  the 
windows,  and,  although  the  mosque,  which  does  not  appear  to 
be  in  common  use,  was  darkened,  saw  enough  to  show  that  the 
interior  was  quite  plain. 

Just  above  this  edifice  stands  a  large  octagonal  tomb,  sur- 
mounted by  a  dome,  and  richly  adorned  with  arabesque  cornices 
and  coatings  of  green  and  blue  tiles.  It  stood  in  a  small  gar- 
den inclosure,  and  there  was  a  sort  of  porter's  lodge  at  the 
entrance.  As  we  approached,  an  old  gray-bearded  man  in  a 
green  turban  came  out,  and,  on  Fran9ois  requesting  <mtranc« 


THE  TOMBS  OF  THE  OTTOMAN  SULTANS.         811 

for  ns,  took  a  key  arid  conducted  us  to  the  building.  He  hac 
not  the  slightest  idea  of  our  being  Christians.  We  took  ofl 
our  slippers  before  touching  the  lintel  of  the  door,  as  the  place 
was  particularly  holy.  Then,  throwing  open  the  door,  the  ola 
man  lingered  a  few  moments  after  we  entered,  so  as  not  to  dis- 
turb our  prayers — a  mark  of  great  respect.  We  advanced  to 
the  edge  of  the  parapet,  turned  our  faces  towards  Mecca,  and 
imitated  the  usual  Mohammedan  prayer  on  entering  a  n»osque, 
by  holding  both  arms  outspread  for  a  few  moments,  the  i  bring 
ing  the  hands  together  and  bowing  the  face  upon  theoa.  This 
done,  we  leisurely  examined  the  building,  and  the  oil  man  was 
ready  enough  to  satisfy  our  curiosity.  It  was  a  r'ch  and  ele- 
gant structure,  lighted  from  the  dome.  The  wo'is  were  lined 
with  brilliant  tiles,  and  had  an  elaborate  cornir  e,  with  Arabic 
inscriptions  in  gold.  The  floor  was  covered  with  a  carpet, 
whereon  stood  eight  or  ten  ancient  coffins,  surrounding  a  larger 
one  which  occupied  a  raised  platform  in  the  centre.  They  were 
all  of  wood,  heavily  carved,  and  many  of  them  entirely  covered 
with  gilded  inscriptions  These,  according  to  the  old  man, 
were  the  coffins  of  the  Ottoman  Sultans,  who  had  reigned  at 
Brousa  previous  to  the  taking  of  Constantinople,  with  some 
members  of  their  families  There  were  four  Sultans,  among 
whom  were  Mahomet  I.,  and  a  certain  Achmet.  Orchan,  the 
founder  of  the  Ottoman  dynasty,  is  buried  somewhere  ia 
Brousa,  and  the  great  central  coffin  may  have  been  his.  Fran- 
cois and  I  talked  entirely  in  Arabic,  and  the  old  man  asked : 
"  Who  are  these  Hadjis  ?"  whereupon  F  immediately  answered  ; 
"  They  are  Effendis  from  Baghdad." 

We  had  intended  making  the  ascent  of  Olympus,  but  the 
lunmit  was  too  thickly  covered  with  clouds.     On  the  morning 


318  THK  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

of  the  second  day,  therefore,  we  determined  to  take  up  the  lin« 
of  march  for  Constantinople.  The  last  scene  of  our  strange, 
eventful  history  with  the  katurgees  had  just  transpired,  by 
their  deserting  us,  being  two  hundred  piastres  in  our  debt. 
They  left  their  khan  on  the  afternoon  after  our  arrival,  ostensi- 
bly for  the  purpose  of  taking  their  beasts  out  to  pasture,  and 
were  never  heard  of  more.  We  let  them  go,  thankful  that 
they  had  not  played  the  trick  sooner.  We  engaged  fresh 
horses  for  Mondania,  on  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  and  dispatched 
Fran9ois  in  advance,  to  procure  a  caique  for  Constantinople 
while  we  waited  to  have  our  passports  signed.  But  after 
waiting  an  hour,  as  there  was  no  appearance  of  the  precious 
documents,  we  started  the  baggage  also,  under  the  charge  of  a 
surroudjee,  and  remained  alone.  Another  hour  passed  by,  and 
yet  another,  and  the  Bey  was  still  occupied  in  sleeping  off  his 
hunger.  Mr.  Harrison,  ir>  desperation,  went  to  the  office,  and 
after  some  delay,  received  the  passports  with  a  vise,  but  not,  as 
we  afterwards  discovered,  the  necessary  one. 

It  was  four  o'clock  by  the  time  we  left  Brousa.  Our  horses 
were  stiff,  clumsy  pack-beasts  ;  but,  by  dint  of  whips  and  the 
sharp  shovel-stirrups,  we  forced  them  into  a  trot  and  made 
them  keep  it.  The  road  was  well  travelled,  and  by  asking 
everybody  we  met :  "Bou  ybl  Moudania  yedermi  1"  ("  Is  this 
the  way  to  Moudania?"),  we  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  it. 
The  plain  in  many  places  is  marshy,  and  traversed  by  several 
gtreams.  A  low  range  of  hills  stretches  across,  and  nearly 
closes  it,  the  united  waters  finding  their  outlet  by  a  narrow 
valley  to  the  north  From  the  top  of  the  hill  we  had  a  grand 
riew,  looking  back  over  the  plain,  with  the  long  line  of  Bronsa'? 
minarets  glittering  through  the  interminable  groves  at  the  foo' 


THE     SEA     OF     MARMORA.  819 

of  the  mountain  Olympus  now  showed  a  superb  outline  ,  th« 
clouds  hung  about  his  shoulders,  but  his  snowy  head  was 
bare.  Before  us  lay  a  broad,  rich  valley,  extending  in  front  to 
the  mountains  of  Moudania.  The  country  was  well  cultivated 
with  large  farming  establishments  here  and  there. 

The  sun  was  setting  as  we  reached  the  summit  ridge,  where 
stood  a  little  guard-house.  As  we  rode  over  the  crest,  Olym- 
pus disappeared,  and  the  Sea  of  Marmora  lay  before  us,  spread- 
ing out  from  the  Gulf  of  Moudania,  which  was  deep  and  blue 
among  the  hills,  to  an  open  line  against  the  sunset.  Beyond 
that  misty  line  lay  Europe,  which  I  had  not  seen  for  nearly 
nine  months,  and  the  gulf  below  me  was  the  bound  of  ray  tent 
and  saddle  life.  But  one  hour  more,  old  horse  !  Have  pati- 
ence with  my  Ethiopian  thong,  and  the  sharp  corners  of  my 
Turkish  stirrups  :  but  one  hour  more,  and  I  promise  never  to 
molest  you  again  !  Our  path  was  downward,  and  I  marvel 
that  the  poor  brute  did  not  sometimes  tumble  headlong  with 
me.  He  had  been  too  long  used  to  the  pack,  however,  and  his 
habits  were  as  settled  as  a  Turk's.  We  passed  a  beautiful 
village  in  a  valley  on  the  right,  and  came  into  ol^e  groves  and 
vineyards,  as  the  dusk  was  creeping  on.  It  was  a  lovely 
country  of  orchards  and  gardens,  with  fountains  spouting  by 
the  wayside,  and  country  houses  perched  on  the  steeps.  In 
another  h  3ur,  we  reached  the*  sea-shore.  It  was  now  nearly 
dark,  but  we  could  see  the  tower  of  Moudania  somr  distance  tc 
the  west. 

Still  in  a  continual  trot,  we  rode  on  ;  and  as  we  Irew  near, 
Mr.  H.  fired  his  gun  to  announce  our  approach.  At  the 
entrance  of  the  town,  we  found  the  sourrudjee  waitiiw?  to  con- 
duce us.  We  clattered  through  the  rough  street?  for  whai 


320  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

seemed  an  endless  length  of  time.  The  Rumazan  gau  had  just 
fired,  the  minarets  were  illuminated,  and  the  coffee-houses  were 
filled  with  people.  Finally,  Francois,  who  had  been  almost  ir 
despair  at  our  non-appearance,  hailed  us  with  the  welcome 
news  that  he  had  engaged  a  ca'ique,  and  that  our  baggage  waa 
already  embarked.  We  only  needed  the  vises  of  the  authori- 
ties, in  order  to  leave.  He  took  our  teskeres  to  get  them,  and 
we  went  upon  the  balcony  of  a  coffee-house  overhanging  the 
sea,  and  smoked  a  narghileh. 

But  here  there  was  another  history.  The  teskeres  had  not 
been  properly  vised  at  Brousa,  and  the  Governor  at  first 
decided  to  send  us  back.  Taking  Fran9ois,  however,  for  a 
Turk,  and  finding  that  we  had  regularly  passed  quarantine,  he 
signed  them  after  a  delay  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  we  left 
the  shore,  weary,  impatient,  and  wolfish  with  twelve  hours' 
fasting.  A  cup  of  Brousan  beer  and  a  piece  of  bread  brought 
as  into  a  better  mood,  and  I,  who  began  to  feel  sick  from  the 
rolling  of  the  caique,  lay  down  on  my  bed,  which  was  spread 
at  the  bottom,  and  found  a  kind  of  uneasy  sleep.  The  sail  was 
hoisted  at  first,  to  get  us  across  the  mouth  of  the  Gulf,  but 
soon  the  Greeks  took  to  their  oars  They  were  silent,  how- 
ever, and  though  I  only  slept  by  fits,  the  night  wore  away 
rapidly.  As  the  dawn  was  deepening,  we  ran  into  a  little 
bight  in  the  northern  side  of  a  promontory,  where  a  picturesque 
Greek  village  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  The  houses 
were  of  wood,  with  balconies  overgrown  with  grape-vines,  and 
there  was  a  fountain  of  cold,  excellent  water  on  the  very  beach. 
Some  Greek  boatmen  were  smoking  in  the  portico  of  a  cafe  on 
shore  and  two  fishermen,  who  had  been  out  before  dawn  tc 
catch  sardines,  were  emptying  their  nets  of  the  spoil.  Oui 


A    TORRID     VOYAGE.  821 

men  kindled  a  fire  on  the  sand,  and  roasted  us  a  dish  of  the 
fish.  Som<;  of  the  last  night  3  hunger  remained,  and  the  meal 
had  enough  of  that  seasoning  to  be  delicious. 

After  giving  our  men  an  hour's  rest,  we  set  off  for  the 
Princes'  Islands,  which  now  appeared  to  the  north,  over  the 
glassy  plain  of  the  sea.  The  Gulf  of  Iskmid,  or  Nieornedia, 
opened  away  to  the  east,  between  two  mountain  headlands. 
The  morning  was  intensely  hot  and  sultry,  and  but  for  the  pro- 
tection of  an  umbrella,  we  should  have  suffered  greatly.  There 
was  a  fiery  blue  vapor  on  the  sea,  and  a  thunder-cloud  hid  the 
shores  of  Thrace.  Now  and  then  came  a  light  puff  of  wind, 
whereupon  the  men  would  ship  the  little  mast,  and  crowd  ou 
au  enormous  quantity  of  sail.  So,  sailing  and  rowing,  we 
neared  the  islands  with  the  storm,  but  it  advanced  slowly 
enough  to  allow  a  sight  of  the  mosques  of  St.  Sophia  and  Sul- 
tan Achrned,  gleaming  far  and  white,  like  icebergs  astray  on  a 
torrid  sea.  Another  cloud  was  pouring  its  rain  over  the  Asian 
shore,  and  we  made  haste  to  get  to  the  lauding  at  Prinkipo 
before  it  could  reach  us.  From  the  south,  the  group  of  islands 
is  not  remarkable  for  beauty.  Only  four  of  them — Prinkipo, 
Chalki,  Prote,  and  Antigone — are  inhabited,  the  other  five 
being  merely  barren  rocks. 

There  is  an  ancient  convent  on  the  summit  of  Priukipo, 
where  the  Empress  Irene — the  contemporary  of  Charlemagne — 
is  buried.  The  town  is  on  the  northern  side  of  the  island,  and 
wnsists  mostly  of  the  summer  residences  of  Greek  and  Arme- 
niaL  merchants.  Many  of  these  are  large  and  stately  houses 
surrounded  with  handsome  gardens.  The  streets  are  shaded 
with  sycamores,  and  the  number  of  coffee-houses  shows  that 
the  place  is  much  frequented  ou  festal  days.  A  company  of 
H* 


822  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEX. 

drunken  Greeks  -were  singing  in  violation  of  all  metre  and  bar 
mony — a  discord  the  more  remarkable,  since  nothing  could  b€ 
more  affectionate  than  their  conduct  towards  each  other. 
Nearly  everybody  was  in  Frank  costume,  and  our  Oriental 
habits,  especially  the  red  Tartar  boots,  attracted  much  obser 
vation.  I  began  to  feel  awkward  and  absurd,  and  longed  to 
show  myself  a  Christian  once  more. 

Leaving  Priukipo,  we  made  for  Constantinople,  whose  long 
array  of  marble  domes  and  gilded  spires  gleamed  like  a  far 
mirage  over  the  waveless  sea.  It  was  too  faint  and  distant 
and  dazzling  to  be  substantial.  It  was  like  one  of  those  imagi- 
nary cities  which  we  build  in  a  cloud  fused  in  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun.  But  as  we  ueared  the  point  of  Chalcedon,  running 
along  the  Asian  shore,  those  airy  piles  gathered  form  and  sub- 
stance. The  pinnacles  of  the  Seraglio  shot  up  from  the  midst 
of  cypress  groves  ;  fantastic  kiosks  lined  the  shore  ;  the  mina- 
rets of  St.  Sophia  and  Sultan  Achmed  rose  more  clearly  against 
the  sky ;  and  a  fleet  of  steamers  and  men-of-war,  gay  with  flags, 
marked  the  entrance  of  the  Golden  Horn.  We  passed  the 
little  bay  where  St.  Chrysostora  was  buried,  the  point  of  Chal- 
cedon, and  now,  looking  up  the  renowned  Bosphorus,  saw  the 
Maiden's  Tower,  opposite  Scutari.  An  enormous  pile,  the 
barracks  of  the  Anatolian  soldiery,  hangs  over  the  high  bank, 
and,  as  we  row  abreast  of  it,  a  fresh  breeze  comes  up  from  the 
Sea  of  Marmora.  The  prow  of  the  caique  is  turned  across  the 
stream,  the  sail  is  set,  and  we  glide  rapidly  and  noiselessly  over 
the  Bosphorus  and  into  the  Golden  Horn,  between  the  banks 
of  the  Frank  and  Moslem — Pera  and  Stamboul.  Where  on 
the  earth  shall  we  find  a  panorama  more  magnificent  ? 

The  air  was  filled  with  the  shouts  and  noises  of  the  great 


W*  ENTER  THE  GOLDEN  HORN.  325 

Oriental  metropolis  ;  the  water  was  alive  with  caiques  and 
little  steamers ;  and  all  the  world  of  work  and  trade,  which 
had  grown  almost  to  be  a  fable,  welcomed  us  back  to  its  rest- 
less heart.  We  threaded  our  rather  perilous  way  over  the 
populous  waves,  and  landed  in  a  throng  of  Custom-Hous* 
officers  and  porters,  on  the  wharf  at  Galata 


THE     LANDS     JT    THE     SARACEN 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

THE     NIGHT     OF     PREDESTINATION. 

Constantinople  in  Ramaian  —  The  Origin  of  the  Fast—  Nightly  Illumination*-  The  Night 
of  Predestination  —  The  Golden  Horn  at  Night  —  Illumination  of  the  Si-orei  —  The 
Cannon  of  Constantinople  —  A  Fiery  Panorama  —  The  Sultan's  Caique  —  Close  of  tl.r 
Celebration—  A  Turkish  Mob—  The  Dancing  Dervishes. 

"  Skies  full  of  splendid  moons  and  shooting  stars, 
And  spouting  exhalations,  diamond  fires."  EJUTS. 


Wednf-»doy,  Jiuy  14,  1362. 

CONSTANTINOPLE,  during  the  month  of  Ramazan,  presents  a 
very  different  aspect  from  Constantinople  at  other  times.  The 
city,  it  is  true,  is  much  more  stern  and  serious  during  the  day; 
there  is  none  of  that  gay,  careless  life  of  the  Orient  which  you 
see  in  Smyrna,  Cairo,  and  Damascus  ;  but  when  once  the  sun- 
set gun  has  fired,  and  the  painful  fast  is  at  an  end,  the  picture 
changes  as  if  by  magic.  In  all  the  outward  symbols  of  their 
religion,  the  Mussulmans  show  their  joy  at  being  relieved  from 
what  they  consider  a  sacred  duty.  During  the  day,  it  is  quite 
a  science  to  keep  the  appetite  dormant,  and  the  people  not  only 
abstain  from  eating  and  drinking,  but  as  much  as  possible  from 
the  sight  of  food.  In  the  bazaars,  you  s°e  the  famished  mer- 
chants either  sitting,  propped  back  against  their  cushions,  with 
the  shawl  about  their  stomachs,  tightened  so  as  to  prevent  the 
void  under  it  from  being  so  sensibly  felt,  or  lying  at  full  length 


THE     ORIGIN     OF     RAMAZAN.  326 

in  the  vain  attempt  to  sleep.  It  is  whispered  here  that  many 
of  the  Turks  will  both  eat  and  smoke,  when  there  is  no  chanc* 
of  detection,  but  no  one  would  dare  infringe  the  fast  in  public. 
Most  of  the  mechanics  and  porters  are  Armenians,  and  tba 
boatmen  are  Greeks. 

I  have  endeavored  to  ascertain  the  origin  of  this  fast  mouth. 
The  Syrian  Christians  say  that  it  is  a  mere  imitation  of  an 
incident  which  happened  to  Mahomet.  The  Prophet,  having 
lost  his  camels,  went  day  after  day  seeking  them  in  the  Desert, 
taking  no  nourishment  from  the  time  of  his  departure  in  the 
morning  until  his  return  at  sunset.  After  having  sought  them 
thus  daily,  for  the  period  of  one  entire  moon,  he  found  them, 
and  in  token  of  joy,  gave  a  three  days'  feast  to  the  tribe,  now 
imitated  in  the  festival  of  Bairam,  which  lasts  for  three  days 
after  the  close  of  Ramazan.  This  reason,  however,  seems  too 
trifling  for  such  a  rigid  fast,  and  the  Turkish  tradition,  that  the 
Koran  was  sent  down  from  heaven  during  this  month,  offers  a 
more  probable  explanation.  During  the  fast,  the  Mussulmans, 
as  is  quite  natural,  are  much  more  fanatical  than  at  other 
times.  They  are  obliged  to  attend  prayers  at  the  mosque 
every  night,  or  to  have  a  mollah  read  the  Koran  to  them  at 
their  own  houses.  All  the  prominent  features  of  their  religion 
are  kept  constantly  before  their  eyes,  and  their  natural  aver 
sion  to  the  Giaour,  or  Infidel,  is  increased  tenfold.  I  have 
heard  of  several  recent  instances  in  which  strangers  have  been 
ftxpcsed  to  insults  and  indignities. 

At  dusk  the  minarets  are  illuminated  ;  a  peal  of  cannon  from 
the  Arsenal,  echoed  by  others  from  the  forts  along  the  Bos 
phams,  relieves  the  suffering  followers  of  the  Prophet,  and  aftei 
an  hour  of  silence,  during  which  they  are  all  at  home,  feast 


326  THE     LAXDS     OF    THE     SARACEN. 

ing,  the  streets  are  filled  with  uoisy  crowds,  and  every  coffea 
shop  is  thronged.  Every  night  *here  are  illuminations  along 
the  water,  which,  added  to  the  crowns  of  light  sparkling  on 
the  hundred  minarets  aud  domes,  give  a  magical  effect  to  th« 
night  view  of  the  city.  Towards  midnight  there  is  again  a 
season  of  comparative  quiet,  most  of  the  inhabitants  having 
retired  to  rest  ;  but,  about  two  hours  afterwards  a  watchman 
comes  along  with  a  big  drum,  which  he  beats  lustily  before  the 
doors  of  the  Faithful,  in  order  to  arouse  them  in  time  to  eat 
again  before  the  daylight-gun,  which  announces  the  commence- 
ment of  another  day's  fast. 

Last  night  was  the  holiest  night  of  Islam,  being  the  twenty 
fifth  of  the  fast.  It  is  called  the  Leilet-d-Kadr,  or  Night  of  the 
Predestination,  the  anniversary  of  that  on  which  the  Koran  was 
miraculously  communicated  to  the  Prophet.  On  this  night 
the  Sultan,  accompanied  by  his  whole  suite,  attends  service  at 
the  mosque,  and  on  his  return  to  the  Seraglio,  the  Sultana 
Valide,  or  Sultana-Mother,  presents  him  with  a  virgin  from  one 
3f  the  noble  families  of  Constantinople.  Formerly,  St.  Sophip 
was  the  theatre  of  this  celebration,  but  this  year  the  Sultan 
chose  the  Mosque  of  Tophaneh,  which  stands  on  the  shore — 
probably  as  being  nearer  to  his  imperial  palace  at  Beshiktashe, 
on  the  Bosphorus.  I  consider  myself  fortunate  in  having 
reached  Constantinople  in  season  to  witness  this  ceremony,  and 
the  illumination  of  the  Golden  Horn,  which  accompanies  it. 

After  sunset  the  mosques  crowning  the  hills  of  Stamboul,  the 
mosque  of  Tophaneh,  on  this  side  of  the  water,  and  the  Turkish 
men-of-war  and  steamers  afloat  at  the  mouth  of  the  Golden 
Horn,  began  to  blaze  with  more  than  their  usual  brilliance 
The  outlines  of  the  minarets  and  domes  were  drawn  iu  light  oc 


THE   GOLDEN   HORN   AT   NI3HT.  881 

the  deepening  gloom,  and  the  masts  and  yards  of  the  vesad 
were  hung  with  colored  lanterns.  Prom  the  battery  in  front 
of  the  mosque  and  arsenal  of  Tophaneh  a  blaze  of  intense  lighi 
streamed  out  over  the  water,  illuminating  the  gliding  forms  of 
a  thousand  caiques,  and  the  dark  hulls  of  the  yessels  lying  at 
anchor.  The  water  is  the  best  place  from  which  to  view  tli€ 
illumination,  and  a  party  of  us  descended  to  the  landing-place. 
The  streets  of  Tophaneh  were  crowded  with  swarms  of  Turks, 
Greeks  and  Armenians.  The  square  around  the  fountain  was 
brilliantly  lighted,  and  venders  of  sherbet  and  kaimak  were 
ranged  along  the  sidewalks.  In  the  neighborhood  of  the 
mosque  the  crowd  was  so  dense  that  we  could  with  difficulty 
make  our  way  through.  All  the  open  space  next  the  water  was 
filled  up  with  the  clumsy  arabas,  or  carriages  of  the  Turks,  in 
which  sat  the  wives  of  the  Pashas  and  other  dignitaries. 

We  took  a  caique,  and  were  soon  pulled  out  into  the  midst  oi 
a  multitude  of  other  caiques,  swarming  all  over  the  surface  of 
the  Golden  Horn.  The  view  from  this  point  was  strange, 
fanfristic,  yet  inconceivably  gorgeous.  In  front,  three  or  four 
large  Turkish  frigates  lay  in  the  Bosphorus,  their  hulls  and 
spars  outlined  in  fire  against  the  dark  hills  and  distant  twink- 
ling lights  of  Asia.  Looking  to  the  west,  the  shores  of  the 
Golden  Horn  were  equally  traced  by  the  multitude  of  lani]^ 
that  covered  them,  and  on  either  side,  the  hills  on  which  the 
city  is  built  rose  from  the  water — masses  of  dark  buildings, 
ioHed  all  over  with  shafts  and  domes  of  the  most  brilliant 
light.  The  gateway  on  Seraglio  Point  was  illuminated,  as  well 
as  the  quay  in  front  of  the  mosque  of  Tophaneh,  all  the  can- 
aons  of  the  battery  being  covered  with  lamps.  The  commonest 
objects  shared  in  the  .splendor,  t-ven  a  large  lever  used  foi 


328  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

hoisting  goods  being  hung  with  lanterns  from  top  to  bottOtt 
The  mosque  was  a  nass  of  light,  and  between  the  tall  minaret-, 
flanking  it,  burned  the  inscription,  in  Arabic  characters,  "  Long 
life  to  you,  0  our  Sovereign  !" 

The  discharge  of  a  cannon  announced  the  Sultan's  departure 
from  his  palace,  and  immediately  the  guns  on  the  frigates  and 
the  batteries  on  both  shores  took  up  the  salute,  till  the  grand 
echoes,  filling  the  hollow  throat  of  the  Golden  Horn,  crashed 
from  side  to  side,  striking  the  hills  of  Scutari  and  the  point  of 
Chalcedon,  and  finally  dying  away  among  the  summits  of  the 
Princes'  Islands,  out  on  the  Sea  of  Marmora.  The  hulls  of  the 
frigates  were  now  lighted  up  with  intense  chemical  fires,  and 
an  abundance  of  rockets  were  spouted  from  their  decks.  A 
large  Drummond  light  on  Seraglio  Point,  and  another  at  the 
Battery  of  Tophaneh,  poured  their  rival  streams  across  the 
Golden  Horn,  revealing  the  thousands  of  caiques  jostling  each 
other  from  shore  to  shore,  and  the  endless  variety  of  gay  cos- 
tumes with  which  they  were  filled.  The  smoke  of  the  cannon 
banging  in  the  air,  increased  the  effect  of  this  illumination,  and 
became  a  screen  of  auroral  brightness,  through  which  the 
superb  spectacle  loomed  with  large  and  unreal  features.  It 
was  a  picture  of  air — a  phantasmagoric  spectacle,  built  of 
luminous  vapor  and  meteoric  fires,  and  hanging  in  the  dark 
round  of  space.  In  spite  of  ourselves,  we  became  eager  and 
excited,  half  fearing  that  the  whole  pageant  would  dissolve  the 
next  moment,  and  leave  no  trace  behind. 

Meanwhile,  the  cannon  thundered  from  a  dozen  batteries,  and 
the  rockets  burst  into  glittering  rain  over  our  heads.  Grander 
discharges  I  never  heard  ;  the  earth  shook  and  trembled  undei 
Uie  mighty  bursts  of  suiml.  and  the  reverberation  which  rat 


ILLUMINATION    OF  THE   SHORES.  829 

tied  along  the  bill  of  Galata,  broken  by  the  scattered  building* 
into  innumerable  fragments  of  sound,  resembled  the  crash  of  a 
thousand  falling  houses.  The  distant  echoes  from  Asia  and  the 
islands  in  the  sea  filled  up  the  pauses  between  the  nearer  peals, 
and  we  seemed  to  be  in  the  midst  of  some  great  naval  engage- 
ment. But  now  the  caique  of  the  Sultan  is  discerned,  approach- 
ing from  the  Bosphorus.  A  signal  is  given,  and  a  sunrise  of 
intense  rosy  and  golden  radiance  suddenly  lights  up  the  long 
arsenal  and  stately  mosque  of  Tophaneh,  plays  over  the  tall 
buildings  on  the  hill  of  Pera,  and  falls  with  a  fainter  lustre  on 
the  Genoese  watch-tower  that  overlooks  Galata.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  describe  the  effect  of  this  magical  illumination.  The 
mosque,  with  its  taper  minarets,  its  airy  galleries,  and  its  great 
central  dome,  is  built  of  compact,  transparent  flame,  and  in  the 
shifting  of  the  red  and  yellow  fires,  seems  to  flicker  and  waver 
in  the  air.  It  is  as  lofty,  and  gorgeous,  and  unsubstantial  as 
the  cloudy  palace  in  Cole's  picture  of  "  Youth."  The  long 
white  front  of  the  arsenal  is  fused  in  crimson  heat,  and  burns 
against  the  dark  as  if  it  were  one  mass  of  living  coal.  And 
over  all  hangs  the  luminous  canopy  of  smoke,  redoubling  its 
lustre  on  the  waters  of  the  Golden  Horn,  and  mingling  with 

the  phosphorescent  gleams  that  play  around  the  oars  of  the 

» 
caiques. 

A  long  barge,  propelled  by  sixteen  oars,  glides  around  the 
dark  corner  of  Tophaueh,  and  shoots  into  the  clear,  brilliant 
space  in  front  of  the  mosque  It  is  not  lighted,  and  passes 
with  great  swiftness  towards  the  brilliant  landing-place.  There 
are  several  persons  seated  under  a  canopy  in  the  stern,  and  we 
are  trying  to  decide  which  is  the  Sultan,  when  a  second  boat, 
driven  by  twenty-four  oarsmen,  comes  in  sight.  The  men  ris> 


330  THB  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

op  at  each  stroke,  and  the  long,  sharp  craft  flies  over  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  rather  than  forces  its  way  through  it.  A 
gilded  crown  surmounts  the  long,  curved  prow,  and  a  light 
though  superb  canopy  covers  the  stern  Under  this,  we  cstcb 
a  glimpse  of  the  Sultan  and  Grand  Vizier,  as  they  appear  for  an 
instant  like  black  silhouettes  against  the  burst  of  light  on  shore. 
After  the  Sultan  had  entered  the  mosque,  the  fires  dimin- 
ished and  the  cannon  ceased,  though  the  illuminated  masts, 
minarets  and  gateways  still  threw  a  brilliant  gleam  over  the 
scene.  After  more  than  an  hour  spent  in  devotion,  he  again 
entered  his  caique  and  sped  away  to  greet  his  new  wife,  amid  a 
fresh  discharge  from  the  frigates  and  the  batteries  on  both 
shores,  and  a  new  dawn  of  auroral  splendor.  We  made  haste 
to  reach  the  landing-place,  in  order  to  avoid  the  crowd  of 
caiques  ;  but,  although  we  were  among  the  first,  we  came  near 
being  precipitated  into  the  water,  in  the  struggle  to  get  ashore. 
The  market-place  at  Tophaueh  was  so  crowded  that  nothing 
but  main  force  brought  us  through,  and  some  of  our  party  had 
*heii  pockets  picked.  A  number  of  Turkish  soldiers  and  police- 
tticu  were  mixed  up  in  the  melee,  and  they  were  not  sparing  of 
blows  when  they  came  in  contact  with  a  Giaour.  In  making 
my  way  through,  I  found  that  a  collision  with  one  of  the  sol- 
diers was  inevitable,  but  I  managed  to  plump  against  him  witb 
such  force  as  to  take  the  breath  out  of  his  body,  and  was  out 
of  his  reach  before  he  had  recovered  himself.  I  saw  several 
Turkish  women  striking  right  and  left  in  their  endeavors  to 
escape,  and  place  their  hands  against  the  faces  of  those  who 
opposed  them,  pushing  chem  asHe.  This  crowd  was  contrived 
by  thieves,  for  the  purpose  of  plunder,  and,  from  what  I  have 
gince  learned,  must  have  beei  very  successful 


THE   DANCiNG   DERVISHES  SSI 

I  visited  to-day  the  College  of  the  Mevlevi  Dervishes  al 
Pera,  and  witnessed  their  peculiar  ceremonies.  They  assemble 
in  a  large  hall,  where  they  take  their  seats  in  a  serai-circle, 
facing  the  shekh.  After  going  through  several  times  with  the 
usual  Moslem  prayer,  they  move  in  slow  march  around  the 
room,  while  a  choir  in  the  gallery  chants  Arabic  phrases  in  a 
manner  very  similar  to  the  mass  in  Catholic  churches.  I  could 
distinguish  the  sentences  "  God  is  great,"  "  Praise  be  to  God," 
and  other  similar  ejaculations.  The  chant  was  accompanied 
with  a  drum  and  flute,  and  had  not  lasted  long  before  the  Der- 
vishes set  themselves  in  a  rotary  motion,  spinning  slowly  around 
the  shekh,  who  stood  in  the  centre.  They  stretched  both  arms 
out,  dropped  their  heads  on  one  side,  and  glided  around  with  a 
steady,  regular  motion,  their  long  white  gowns  spread  out  and 
floating  on  the  air.  Their  steps  were  very  similar  to  those  of 
the  modern  waltz,  which,  it  is  possible,  may  have  been  derived 
from  the  dance  of  the  Mevlevis.  Baron  Von  Hammer  finds 
in  this  ceremony  an  imitation  of  the  dance  of  the  spheres,  in 
the  ancient  Samothracian  Mysteries  ;  but  I  see  no  reason  tc 
go  so  far  back  for  its  origin.  The  dance  lasted  for  about 
twenty  minutes,  and  the  Dervishes  appeared  very  much 
exhausted  at  the  close,  as  they  are  obliged  to  observe  the  fast 
very  strictly. 


832  THE     LANDS     OF     THE     SARACEN 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    SOLEMNITIES    OF    BAIRAM 

n»«  Appearance  of  the  New  Moon—  The  Festival  of  Bairam—  The  Interiur  of  tli« 
Seraglio  —  The  Pomp  of  the  Sultan's  Court  —  Reschid  Pasha  —  The  Sultan's  DwatC— 
Arabian  Stallions  —  The  Imperial  Guard  —  Appearance  of  the  Sultan  —  The  Inner  Court 
—Return  of  the  Procession  —  The  Sultan  on  his  Throne  —  The  Homage  of  the  Pashas 
—  An  Oriental  Picture  —  Kissing  the  Scarf—  The  Shekh  el-Islam  —  The  Descendant  of 
the  Caliphs  —  Bairam  Commences. 


,  July  19,  1852. 

SATURDAY  was  the  last  day  of  the  fast-month  of  Ramazan,  and 
yesterday  the  celebration  of  the  solemn  festival  of  Bairam 
took  place.  The  moon  changed  on  Friday  morning  at  11 
o'clock,  but  as  the  Turks  have  no  faith  in  astronomy,  and  do 
not  believe  the  moon  has  actually  changed  until  they  see  it,  all 
good  Mussulmea  were  obliged  to  fast  an  additional  day.  Had 
Saturday  been  cloudy,  and  the  new  moon  invisible,  I  am  no 
sure  but  the  fast  would  have  been  still  further  prolonged.  A 
good  look-out  was  kept,  however,  and  about  four  o'clock  on 
Saturday  afternoon  some  sharp  eyes  saw  the  young  crescent 
above  the  sun.  There  is  a  hill  near  Gemlik.  on  the  Gulf  of 
Moudania,  about  fifty  miles  from  here,  whence  the  Turks 
believe  the  new  moon  can  be  first  3eeu.  The  families  who  live 
on  this  hill  are  exempted  from  taxation,  in  consideration  of 
their  keeping  a  watch  for  the  moon,  at  the  close  of  Ramazan 


THE    FESTIVAL    OF    BAIRAM. 

A.  series  of  signals,  from  hill  to  hill,  is  in  readiness,  and  the 
news  is  transmitted  to  Constantinople  in  a  very  short  time 
Then,  when  the  muezzin  proclaims  the  asstr,  or  prayer  two 
hours  before  sunset,  he  proclaims  also  the  close  of  Ramazan. 
All  the  batteries  fire  a  salute,  and  the  big  guns  along  the 
water  announce  the  joyful  news  to  all  parts  of  the  city.  The 
forts  on  the  Bosphorus  take  up  the  tale,  and  both  shores,  from 
the  Black  Sea  to  the  Propontis,  shake  with  the  burden  of 
their  rejoicing  At  night  the  mosques  are  illuminated  for  the 
last  lime,  for  it  is  only  during  Ramazau  that  they  are  lighted, 
or  open  for  night  service. 

After  Ramazau,  comes  the  festival  of  Bairam,  which  lasts 
three  days,  and  is  a  season  of  unbounded  rejoicing.  The 
bazaars  are  closed,  no  Turk  does  any  work,  but  all,  clothed  in 
their  best  dresses,  or  in  an  entire  new  suit  if  they  can  afford  it, 
pass  the  time  in  feasting,  in  paying  visits,  or  in  making  excur- 
sions to  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus,  or  other  favorite  spots 
around  Constantinople  The  festival  is  inaugurated  by  a 
solemn  state  ceremony,  at  the  Seraglio  and  the  mosque  of 
Sultan  Achmed,  whither  the  Sultan  goes  in  procession,  accom- 
panied by  all  the  officers  of  the  Government.  This  is  the  last 
remaining  pageant  which  has  been  spared  to  the  Ottoman 
monarchs  by  the  rigorous  reforming  measures  of  Sultan  Mah- 
moud,  and  shorn  as  it  is  of  much  of  its  former  splendor,  it 
probably  surpasses  in  brilliant  effect  any  spectacle  which  anj 
other  European  Court  can  present.  The  ceremonies  which  take 
place  inside  of  the  Seraglio  were,  until  within  three  or  four 
years,  prohibited  to  Frank  eyes,  and  travellers  were  obliged  to 
content  themselves  with  a  view  of  the  procession,  as  it  passed 
to  the  mosque.  Through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Brown,  of  the 


334  THE  LAND2  OF  THE  SARACEX. 

American  Embassy,  I  was  enabled  to  witness  the  <ntire  solen? 
nity,  in  all  its  details. 

As  the  procession  leaves  the  Seraglio  at  sunrise,  we  rose  witl 
the  first  streak  of  dawn,  descended  to  Tophaneh,  and  crossed 
to  Seraglio  Poiut,  where  the  cavass  of  the  Embassy  was  ii: 
waiting  for  us.  He  conducted  us  through  the  guards,  into  the 
garden  of  the  Seraglio,  and  up  the  hill  to  the  Palace.  The 
Capudan  Pasha,  or  Lord  High  Admiral,  had  just  arrived  in  a 
splendid  caique,  and  pranced  up  the  hill  before  us  on  a  magni- 
ficent stallion,  whose  trappings  blazed  with  jewels  and  gold 
lace.  The  rich  uniforms  of  the  different  officers  of  the  army 
and  marine  glittered  far  and  near  under  the  dense  shadows  of 
the  cypress  trees,  and  down  the  dark  alleys  where  the  morning 
twilight  had  not  penetrated.  We  were  ushered  into  the  great 
outer  court-yard  of  the  Seraglio,  leading  to  the  Sublime  Porte. 
A  double  row  of  marines,  in  scarlet  jackets  and  white 
trowsers,  extended  from  one  gate  to  the  other,  and  a  very 
excellent  brass  band  played  "  Sumii  la  tromba  "  with  much 
spirit.  The  groups  of  Pashas  and  other  officers  of  high  rank 
•with  their  attendants,  gave  the  scene  a  brilliant  character  of 
festivity.  The  costumes,  except  those  of  the  secretaries  and 
servants,  were  after  the  European  model,  but  covered  with  a 
lavish  profusion  of  gold  lace.  The  horses  were  all  of  the 
choicest  Eastern  breeds,  and  the  broad  housings  of  their  sad- 
dles of  blue,  green,  purple,  and  crimson  cloth,  were  enriched 
with  gold  lace,  rubies,  emeralds  and  turquoises. 

The  cavass  took  us  into  a  chamber  near  the  gate,  and  com 
manding  a  view  of  the  whole  court.  There  we  found  Mr 
Browu  and  his  lady,  with  several  officers  from  the  U.  S 
Btcamer  San  Jacinto.  At  'his  moment  the  sun,  appearing 


THE   PROCESSION    TO    THE  MOSQUE.  335 

above  the  hill  of  Bulgurlu,  behind  Scutari,  threw  his  earliest 
rays  upon  the  gilded  pinnacles  of  the  Seraglio.  The  commo- 
tion in  the  long  court-yard  below  increased.  The  marines  were 
formed  into  exact  line,  the  horses  of  the  officers  clattered  on 
the  rough  pavement  as  thev  dashed  about  to  expedite  the 
arrangements,  the  crowd  pressed  closer  to  the  line  of  the  pro- 
cession, and  in  five  minutes  the  grand  pageant  was  set  in 
motion.  As  the  first  Pasha  made  his  appearance  under  the 
dark  archway  of  the  interior  gate,  the  band  struck  up  the 
MarseUlaist  (which  is  a  favorite  air  among  the  Turks),  and  the 
soldiers  presented  arms.  The  court-yard  was  near  two  hun- 
dred yards  long,  and  the  line  of  Pashas,  each  surrounded  with 
the  officers  of  his  staff,  made  a  most  dazzling  show.  The  lowest 
in  rank  came  first.  I  cannot  recollect  the  precise  order,  nor  the 
names  of  all  of  them,  which,  in  fact,  are  of  little  consequence, 
while  power  and  place  are  such  uncertain  matters  in  Turkey 

Each  Pasha  wore  the  red  fez  on  his  head,  a  frock-coat  of 
blue  cloth,  the  breast  of  which  was  entirely  covered  with  gold 
lace,  while  a  broad  band  of  the  same  decorated  the  skirts,  and 
white  pantaloons.  One  of  the  Ministers,  Mehemet  Ali  Pasha, 
the  brother-in-law  of  the  Sultan,  was  formerly  a  cooper's 
apprentice,  but  taken,  when  a  boy,  by  the  late  Sultan  Mali- 
moud,  to  be  a  playmate  for  his  son,  on  account  of  his  extraor- 
dinary beauty.  Reschid  Pasha,  the  Grand  Viziei ,  is  a  man  of 
about  sixty  years  of  age.  He  is  frequently  called  Giaour,  or 
Infidel,  by  the  Turks,  on  account  of  his  liberal  policy,  which 
has  made  him  many  enemies.  The  expression  of  his  face 
denotes  intelligence,  bat  lacks  the  energy  necessary  to  accom- 
plish great  reforms.  His  son,  a  boy  of  about  seventeen,  alreadj 
possesses  the  rank  of  Pasha,  and  is  affianced  to  the  Sultan's 


886  THK  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

daughter,  a  child  of  ten  or  twelve  years  old.  He  is  a  fat 
oaudsome  youth,  with  a  sprightly  face,  and  acted  his  part  it 
the  ceremonies  with  a  nonchalance  which  made  him  appeal 
graceful  beside  his  stiff,  dignified  elders 

After  the  Pashas  came  the  entire  household  of  the  Sultan, 
including  even  his  eunuchs,  cooks,  and  constables.  The  Kislar 
Aga,  or  Chief  Eunuch,  a  tall  African  in  resplendent  costume, 
is  one  of  the  most  important  personages  connected  with  the 
Court.  The  Sultan's  favorite  dwarf,  a  little  man  about  forty 
years  old  and  three  feet  high,  bestrode  his  horse  with  as  conse 
quential  an  air  as  any  of  them.  A  few  years  ago,  tnis  man 
took  a  notion  to  marry,  and  applied  to  the  Sultan  for  a  wife. 
The  latter  gave  him  permission  to  go  into  his  harem  and  take 
the  one  whom  he  could  kiss.  The  dwarf,  like  all  short  men, 
was  ambitious  to  have  a  long  wife.  While  the  Sultau's  five  hun- 
dred women,  who  knew  the  terms  according  to  which  the  dwarf 
was  permitted  to  choose,  were  laughing  at  the  amorous  uiiiu- 
nikin,  he  went  up  to  one  of  the  tallest  and  handsomest  of  them, 
and  struck  her  a  sudden  blow  on  the  stomach.  She  collapsed 
with  the  pain,  and  before  she  could  recover  he  caught  her  by  the 
neck  and  gave  her  the  dreaded  kiss.  The  Sultan  kept  his  word, 
and  the  tall  beauty  is  now  the  mother  of  the  dwarfs  children. 

The  procession  grows  more  brilliant  as  it  advances,  and  the 
profound  inclination  nc.ade  by  the  soldiers  at  the  further  end  of 
the  court,  announces  the  approach  of  the  Sultan  himself.  First 
come  three  led  horses,  of  the  noblest  Arabian  blood — gloricui 
features,  worthy  to  represent 

"  The  horse  that  guide  the  golden  eye  of  heaven. 
And  snort  the  morning  from  their  nostrils, 
Making  their  fiery  gait  above  the  glades." 


THE    SflTAN.  887 

Their  eyes  were  more  keen  and  lustrous  than  the  diamonds 
which  studded  their  head-stalls,  and  the  wealth  of  emeralds, 
rnbies,  and  sapphires  that  gleamed  on  their  trappings  would 
hare  bought  the  possessions  of  a  German  Prince.  After  them 
came  the  Sultan's  body-guard,  a  company  of  tall,  strong  men, 
in  crimson  tunics  and  white  trousers,  with  lofty  plumes  of  pea- 
cock feathers  in  their  hat?  Some  of  them  carried  crests  of 
green  feathers,  fastened  upon  long  staves.  These  superb  horses 
and  showy  guards  are  the  only  relics  of  that  barbaric  pomp 
which  characterized  all  State  processions  during  the  time  of  the 
Janissaries.  In  the  centre  of  a  hollow  square  of  plume-bearing 
guards  rode  Abdul-Medjid  himself,  on  a  snow-white  steed 
Every  one  bowed  profoundly  as  he  passed  along,  but  he  neither 
looked  to  the  right  or  left,  nor  made  the  slightest  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  salutations.  Turkish  etiquette  exacts  the  most  rigid 
indifference  on  the  part  of  the  Sovereign,  who,  on  all  public 
occasions,  never  makes  a  greeting.  Formerly,  before  the  change 
of  costume,  the  Sultan's  turbans  were  carried  before  him  in  the 
processions,  and  the  servants  who  bore  them  inclined  them  to  one 
side  and  the  other,  in  answer  to  the  salutations  of  the  crowd. 

Sultan  Abdul-Medjid  is  a  man  of  about  thirty,  though  he 
looks  older.  He  has  a  mild,  amiable,  weak  face,  dark  eyes,  a 
prominent  nose,  and  short,  dark  brown  mustaches  and  beard. 
His  face  is  thin,  and  wrinkles  are  already  making  their  appear- 
ance about  the  corners  of  his  mouth  and  eyes.  Bat  for  a  cer- 
tain vacancy  of  expression,  he  would  be  called  a  handsome 
man.  He  sits  on  his  horse  with  much  ease  and  grace,  though 
".here  is  a  slight  stoop  in  his  shoulders.  His  legs  are  crooked, 
owing  to  which  cause  he  appears  awkward  when  on  his  feet, 
though  he  wears  a  long  cloak  to  conceal  the  deformity.  Sea 

15 


33$  THE    LANDS    OF    THE     SARACEN*. 

suul  indulgence  has  weakened  a  constitution  not  naturally 
strung,  and  increased  that  mildness  \viiidi  has  n-\v  become  a 
defect  in  his  character.  He  is  not  stern  enough  TO  in- just,  and 
his  subjects  are  less  fortunate  under  his  easy  rule  than  under 
the  rod  of  his  savage  father,  Mahmoud.  lie  \v.,s  dressed  in  a 
style  of  the  utmost  richness  and  elegance.  He  wore  a  red 
Turkish  fez.  with  an  immense  rosette  of  brilliants,  and  a  long, 
floating  plume  of  bird-of-paradise  feathers.  The  diamond  in 
the  centre  of  the  rosette  is  of  unusual  size;  it  was  picked  up 
some  years  ago  in  the  Hippodrome,  and  probably  belonged  to 
the  treasury  of  the  Greek  Emperors.  The  breast  and  collar 
of  his  coat  were  oiie  mass  of  diamonds,  aud  sparkled  in  thf 
early  sun  with  a  thousand  rainbow  gleams.  His  mantle  oi 
dark-blue  cloth  hung  to  his  knees,  concealing  the  deformity  of 
his  legs.  He  wore  white  pantaloons,  wbite  kid  gloves,  and 
patent  leather  boots,  thrust  into  his  golden  stirrups. 

A  few  officers  of  the  Imperial  househol  1  followed  behind  the 
Sultan,  and  the  procession  then  terminated.  Including  the 
soldiers,  it  contained  from  two  to  three  thousand  persons.  The 
marines  lined  the  way  to  the  mosque  of  Sultan  Achmed, 
and  a  great  crowd  of  spectators  filled  up  the  streets  and  the 
square  of  the  Hippodrome.  Coffee  was  served  to  us,  after 
which  we  were  all  conducted  into  the  inner  court  of  the  Serag- 
lio, to  await  the  return  of  the  cortege.  This  court  is  not  more 
that  half  the  size  of  the  outer  one  but  is  shaded  with  large 
sycamores,  embellished  with  fountains,  and  surrounded  with 
light  and  elegant  galleries,  in  pure  Saracenic  style.  The  pio 
ture  which  it  presented  was  therefore  far  richer  and  more 
characteristic  of  the  Orient  than  the  outer  court,  where  the 
architecture  is  almost  wholly  after  Italian  models.  The  portals 


THE   SULTAN    ON    HIS   THBONB.  339 

at  either  end  rested  on  slender  pillars,  over  which  projected 
broad  eaves,  decorated  with  elaborate  carved  and  gilded  work 
and  above  all  rose  a  dome,  surmounted  by  the  Crescent.  On 
the  right,  the  tall  chimneys  of  the  Imperial  kitchens  towered 
above  the  walls.  The  sycamores  threw  their  broad,  cooJ 
shadows  over  the  court,  and  groups  of  servants,  in  gala  dresses, 
loitered  about  the  corridors. 

After  waiting  nearly  half  an  hour,  the  sound  of  music  and  the 
appearance  of  the  Sultan's  body-guard  proclaimed  the  return 
of  the  procession.  It  came  in  reversed  order,  headed  by  the 
Sultan,  after  whom  followed  the  Grand  Vizier  and  other  Minis- 
ters of  the  Imperial  Council,  and  the  Pashas,  each  surrounded 
by  his  staff  of  officers.  The  Sultun  dismounted  at  the  entrance 
to  the  Seraglio,  and  disappeared  through  the  door.  He  was 
ab.svnt  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  during  which  time  he 
received  the  congratulations  of  his  family,  his  wives,  and  the 
principal  personages  of  his  household,  all  of  whom  came  to  kiss 
his  feet.  Meanwhile,  the  Pashas  ranged  themselves  in  a  semi- 
circle around  the  arched  and  gilded  portico.  The  servants  of 
the  Seraglio  brought  out  a  large  Persian  carpet,  which  they 
spread  on  the  marble  pavement.  The  throne,  a  large  square 
seat,  richly  carved  and  covered  with  gilding,  was  placed  in  the 
centre,  and  a  dazzling  piece  of  cloth-of-gold  thrown  over  the 
back  of  it.  When  the  Sultan  re-appeared,  he  took  his  seat 
thereon,  placing  his  feet  on  a  small  footstool.  The  ceremony 
of  kissing  his  feet  now  commenced.  The  first  who  had  this 
honor  was  the  Chief  of  the  Emirs,  an  old  man  in  a  green  robe, 
embroidered  with  pearls.  He  advanced  to  the  throne,  knelt, 
kissed  the  Sultan's  patent-leather  boot,  and  retired  backward 
from  the  presence 


340  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

The  Ministers  and  Pashas  followed  in  single  file,  and,  aftei 
they  had  made  the  salutation,  took  their  stati  »ns  on  the  righ« 
band  of  the  throne.  Most  of  them  were  fat,  and  their  glitter- 
ing frock-coats  were  buttoned  so  tightly  that  they  seemed  ready 
to  burst.  It  required  a  great  effort  for  them  to  rise  from  their 
knees.  During  all  this  time,  the  band  was  playing  operatic 
airs,  and  as  each  Pasha  knelt,  a  marshal,  or  master  of  ceremo- 
nies, with  a  silver  wand,  gave  the  signal  to  the  Imperial  Guard, 
who  shouted  at  the  top  of  their  voices  :  "  Prosperity  to  our 
Sovereign  1  May  he  live  a  thousand  years  1"  This  part  of  the 
ceremony  was  really  grand  and  imposing.  All  the  adjuncts 
were  in  keeping :  the  portico,  wrought  in  rich  arabesque 
designs  ;  the  swelling  domes  and  sunlit  crescents  above  ;  the 
sycamores  and  cypresses  shading  the  court ;  the  red  tunics  and 
peacock  plumes  of  the  guard  ;  the  monarch  himself,  radiant 
with  jewels,  as  he  sat  in  his  chair  of  gold — all  these  features 
combined  to  form  a  stately  picture  of  the  lost  Orient,  and  for 
the  time  Abdul-Medjid  seemed  the  true  representative  of 
Caliph  Haroun  Al-Raschid. 

After  the  Pashas  had  finished,  the  inferior  officers  of  the 
Army,  Navy,  and  Civil  Service  followed,  to  the  number  of  at 
least  a  thousand.  They  were  not  considered  worthy  to  touch 
the  Sultan's  person,  but  kissed  his  golden  scarf,  which  was  held 
out  to  them  by  a  Pasha,  who  stood  on  the  left  of  the  throne. 
Tht  Grand  Vizier  had  his  place  on  the  right,  and  the  Chief  of 
the  Eunuchs  stood  behind  him.  The  kissing  of  the  scarf  occu- 
pied an  hour.  The  Sultan  sat  quietly  during  al1  this  time,  his 
face  expressing  a  total  indifference  to  all  that  was  going  on. 
The  most  skilful  physiognomist  could  cot  have  found  in  it  the 
shadow  of  an  expression.  If  this  wag  the  etiquette  prescribed 


TEE    SHEKH    EL-ISLAM.  341 

for  him,  he  certainly  acted  it  with  marvellous  siill  and 
snccess. 

The  long  line  of  officers  at  length  came  to  an  end,  and  1 
fancied  that  the  solemnities  were  now  over  ;  but  after  a  pause 
appeared  the  Shekh  d-Islam,  or  High  Priest  of  the  Mahometan 
religion.  His  authority  in  religious  matters  transcends  that  of 
the  Sultan,  and  is  final  and  irrevocable.  He  was  a  very 
venerable  man,  of  perhaps  seventy-five  years  of  age,  and  his 
tottering  steps  were  supported  by  two  mollahs.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  long  green  robe,  embroidered  with  gold  and  pearls, 
over  which  his  white  beard  flowed  below  his  waist.  In  hi? 
turban  of  white  cambric  was  twisted  a  scarf  of  cloth-of-gold. 
He  kissed  the  border  of  the  Sultan's  mantle,  which  salutation 
was  also  made  by  a  long  line  of  the  chief  priests  of  the  mosquea 
of  Constantinople,  who  followed  him.  These  priests  were 
dressed  in  long  robes  of  white,  green,  blue,  and  violet,  many 
of  them  with  collars  of  pearls  and  golden  scarfs  wound  about 
their  turbans,  the  rich  fringes  falling  on  their  shoulders.  They 
were  grave,  stately  men,  with  long  gray  beards,  and  the  wis- 
dom of  age  and  study  in  their  deep-set  eyes. 

Among  the  last  who  came  was  the  most  important  personage 
of  all.  This  was  the  Governor  of  Mecca  (as  I  believe  he  is 
called),  the  nearest  descendant  of  the  Prophet,  and  the  succes- 
sor to  the  Caliphate,  in  case  the  family  of  Othman  becomes 
extinct.  Sultan  Mahmoud,  on  his  accession  to  the  throne,  was 
the  last  descendant  of  Orchan,  the  founder  of  the  Ottoman 
Dynasty,  the  throne  being  inherited  only  by  the  male  heirs. 
He  left  two  sons,  who  are  both  living,  Abdul-Medjid  having 
departed  from  the  practice  of  his  predecessors,  each  of  whom 
nis  brothers,  in  order  to  make  his  own  sovereignty  secure 


842  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

He  has  one  son,  Muzad,  who  is  about  ten  years  old,  so  thai 
there  are  now  three  males  of  the  family  of  Orchan.  In  case 
of  their  death,  the  Governor  of  Mecca  would  become  Caliph, 
and  the  sovereignty  would  be  established  in  his  family.  He  U 
a  swarthy  Arab,  of  about,  fifty,  with  a  bold,  fierce  face.  He 
wore  a  superb  dress  of  green,  the  sacred  color,  and  was  fol 
lowed  by  his  two  sons,  young  men  of  twenty  and  twenty-two 
As  he  advanced  to  the  throne,  and  was  about  to  kneel  and  kiss 
the  Sultan's  robe,  the  latter  prevented  him,  and  asked  politely 
after  his  health — the  highest  mark  of  respect  in  his  power  to 
show.  The  old  Arab's  face  gleamed  with  such  a  sudden  gush 
of  pride  and  satisfaction,  that  no  flash  of  lightning  could  have 
illumined  it  more  vividly. 

The  sacred  writers,  or  transcribers  of  the  Koran,  closed  the 
procession,  after  which  the  Sultan  rose  and  entered  the  Serag- 
lio. The  crowd  slowly  dispersed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
grand  reports  of  the  cannon  on  Seraglio  Point  announced  the 
departure  of  the  Sultan  for  his  palace  on  the  Bosphorus.  The 
festival  of  Bairam  was  now  fairly  inaugurated,  and  all  Stam- 
boul  was  given  up  to  festivity.  There  was  no  Turk  so  poor 
that  he  did  not  in  some  sort  share  in  the  rejoicing.  Our 
Fourth  could  scarcely  show  more  flags,  let  off  more  big  guns 
or  send  forth  greater  crow  Is  of  excursionists  than  this  Moslem 
holiday. 


SOJOURN    AT    CONSTANTINOPLE  343 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE     MOSQUES     OF     CONSTANTINOP1.  K. 

itoourr.  at  Constantinople — Semi-European  Character  of  the  City — The  Mo'qiu — Pro 
curing  a  Firman — The  Seraglio — The  Library — The  Ancient  Throne-Room — Admit 
tance  to  St.  Sophia — Magnificence  of  the  Interior — The  Marvellous  Dome — Th« 
Mosque  of  Sultan  Achmed — The  Sulemanye — Great  Conflagrations — Political  Mean- 
ing of  the  Fires — Turkish  Progress — Decay  of  the  Ottoman  Power. 

"Is  that  indeed  Sophia's  far-famed  dome, 
Where  first  the  Faith  was  led  in  triumph  home, 
Like  some  high  bride,  with  banner  and  bright  sign, 
And  melody,  and  flowers  f "       »  AUBREY  DB  VE«B 

CONSTAHTTNOPLK,  7Ve«rf<7y,  Avf/uft  8, 1852. 

PHE  length  of  ray  stay  iu  Constantinople  has  enabled  me  tc 
visit  many  interesting  spots  in  its  vicinity,  as  well  as  to  fami- 
liarize myself  with  the  peculiar  features  of  the  great  capital. 
I  have  seen  the  beautiful  Bosphorus  from  steamers  and  cai- 
ques ;  ridden  up  the  valley  of  Buyukdere,  and  through  the 
chestnut  woods  of  Belgrade  ;  bathed  in  the  Black  Sea,  under 
the  lee  of  the  Symplegades,  where  the  marble  altar  to  Apollo 
still  invites  an  oblation  from  passing  mariners  ;  walked  ovei 
the  flowery  meadows  beside  the  "  Heavenly  Waters  of  Asia  ;'• 
galloped  around  the  ivy-grown  walls  where  Dandolo  and  Maho- 
met  II.  conquered,  and  the  last  of  the  Palaeologi  fell ;  aud 
dreamed  away  many  an  afternoon-hour  under  the  funereal 
cypresses  of  Pera,  and  beside  the  Delphian  tripod  in  the  Hip 


344  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

podrome  The  historic  interest  of  these  spots  is  familiar  t* 
all,  uor,  with  oiie  exception,  have  their  natural  beauties  beet 
exaggerated  by  travellers.  This  exception  is  the  village  of 
Belgrade,  over  which  Mary  Montague  went  into  raptures,  and 
set  the  fashion  for  tourists  ever  since.  I  must  confess  to  having 
been  wofully  disappointed.  The  village  is  a  miserable  cluster 
of  rickety  houses,  on  an  open  piece  of  barren  laud,  surrounded 
by  the  forests,  or  rather  thickets,  which  keep  alive  the  springs 
that  supply  Constantinople  with  water.  We  reached  there 
with  appetites  sharpened  by  our  morning's  ride,  expecting  to 
find  at  least  a  vender  of  kibabs  (bits  of  fried  meat)  in  so 
renowned  a  place ;  but  the  only  things  to  be  had  were  raw  salt 
mackerel,  and  bread  which  belonged  to  the  primitive  geological 
formation. 

The  general  features  of  Constantinople  and  the  Bosphorus 
are  so  well  known,  that  I  am  spared  the  dangerous  task  of 
painting  scenes  which  have  been  colored  by  abler  pencils.  Von 
Hammer,  Lamartine,  Willis,  Miss  Pardoe,  Albert  Smith,  and 
chou,  most  inimitable  Thackeray  1  have  made  Pera  and  Scutari, 
the  Bazaars  and  Baths,  the  Seraglio  and  the  Golden  Horn,  aa 
familiar  to  our  ears  as  Cornhill  and  Wall  street.  Besides, 
Constantinople  is  not  the  true  Orient,  which  is  to  be  found 
rather  in  Cairo,  in  Aleppo,  and  brightest  and  most  vital,  in 
Damascus.  Here,  we  tread  European  soil ;  the  Franks  are 
fust  crowding  out  the  followers  of  the  Prophet,  and  Stamboul 
itself,  were  its  mosques  and  Seraglio  removed,  would  differ  little 
in  outward  appearance  from  a  third-rate  Italian  town.  The 
Sultan  lives  in  a  palace  with  a  Grecian  portico  ;  the  pointed 
Saracenic  arch,  the  arabesque  sculptures,  the  latticed  balconies, 
give  place  to  clumsy  imitations  of  Palladio,  and  every  fire  thai 


THE    MOSQUE.  845 

Bleeps  away  a  recollection  of  the  palmy  times  of  Ottoman 
rale,  sweeps  it  away  forever. 

But  the  Mosque — that  blossom  of  Oriental  architecture, 
with  its  crowning  domes,  like  the  inverted  bells  of  the  lotus, 
and  its  reed-like  minarets,  its  fountains  and  marble  courts — can 
only  perish  with  the  faith  it  typifies.  I,  for  one,  rejoice  thai, 
so  long  as  the  religion  of  Islam  exists  (and  yet,  may  its  time 
be  short  I),  no  Christian  model  can  shape  its  houses  of  worship 
The  minaret  must  still  lift  its  airy  tower  for  the  muezzin  ;  the 
dome  must  rise  like  a  gilded  heaven  above  the  prayers  of  the 
Faithful,  with  its  starry  lamps  and  emblazoned  phrases  ;  the 
fountain  must  continue  to  pour  its  waters  of  purification.  A 
reformation  of  the  Moslem  faith  is  impossible.  When  it  begins 
to  give  way,  the  whole  fabric  must  fall.  Its  ceremonies,  as 
well  as  its  creed,  rest  entirely  on  the  recognition  of  Mahomet 
as  the  Prophet  of  God.  However  the  Turks  may  change  in 
other  respects,  in  all  that  concerns  their  religion  they  must 
continue  the  same. 

Until  within  a  few  years,  a  visit  to  the  mosques,  especially 
the  more  sacred  ones  of  St.  Sophia  and  Sultan  Achmed,  was 
attended  with  much  difficulty.  Miss  Pardoe,  according  to  her 
own  account,  risked  her  life  in  order  to  see  the  interior  of  St. 
Sophia,  which  she  effected  in  the  disguise  of  a  Turkish  Effendi. 
1  accomplished  the  same  thing,  a  few  days  since,  but  without 
recourse  to  any  such  romantic  expedient.  Mr.  Brown,  the 
interpreter  of  the  Legation,  procured  a  firman  from  the  Grand 
Vizier,  on  behalf  of  the  officers  of  the  San  Jacinto,  and  kindly 
invited  me,  with  several  other  American  and  English  travellers, 
to  join  the  party.  During  the  mouth  of  Rarnazan,  no  firman.' 
are  given,  and  as  at  this  time  there  are  few  travellers  in  Con- 
id 


346  TUE  LAXDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

slantinople,  we  should  otherwise  have  been  subjected  to  a  hear) 
expense.  The  cost  of  a  firman,  including  backsheesh  to  ttu 
priests  and  doorkeepers,  is  700  piastres  (about  $33). 

We  crossed  the  Golden  Horn  in  caiques,  and  first  visited  the 
gardens  and  palaces  on  Seraglio  Point.  The  Sultan  at  presei.t 
resides  in  his  summer  palace  of  Beshiktashe,  on  the  Bosphorus, 
and  only  occupies  the  Serai  Bornou,  as  it  is  called,  during  the 
winter  months.  The  Seraglio  covers  the  extremity  of  the 
promontory  on  which  Constantinople  is  built,  and  is  nearly 
three  miles  in  circuit.  The  scattered  buildings  erected  by  dif- 
ferent Sultans  form  in  themselves  a  small  city,  whose  domes 
and  pointed  turrets  rise  from  amid  groves  of  cypress  and  pine 
The  sea-wall  is  lined  with  kiosks,  from  whose  cushioned  win- 
dows there  are  the  loveliest  views  of  the  European  and  Asian 
shores.  The  newer  portion  of  the  palace,  where  the  Sultan 
now  receives  the  ambassadors  of  foreign  nations,  shows  the 
influence  of  European  taste  in  its  plan  and  decorations.  It  is 
by  no  means  remarkable  for  splendor,  and  suffers  by  contrast 
with  many  of  the  private  houses  in  Damascus  and  Aleppo. 
The  building  is  of  wood,  the  walls  ornamented  with  detestable 
frescoes  by  modern  Greek  artists,  and  except  a  small  but 
splendid  collection  of  arms,  and  some  wonderful  specimens  of 
Arabic  chirography,  there  is  nothing  to  interest  the  visitor. 

In  ascending  to  the  ancient  Seraglio,  which  was  founded  by 
Mahomet  II.,  on  the  site  of  the  palace  of  the  Palaologi,  we 
passed  the  Column  of  Theodosius,  a  plain  Corinthian  shaft, 
about  fifty  feet  high.  The  Seraglio  is  now  occupied  entirely 
oy  the  servants  and  guards,  and  the  greater  part  of  it  shows  a 
aeglect  amounting  almost  to  dilapidation.  The  Saracenic  cor 
ridors  scrrounding  its  courts  are  supported  by  pillars  of  ma> 


THE    SERAGLIO.  341 

Die,  granite,  and  porphyry,  the  spoils  of  the  Christian  capital 
We  were  allowed  to  walk  about  at  leisure,  and  inspect  the  dif 
ferent  compartments,  except  the  library,  which  unfortunately 
was  locked.  This  library  was  for  a  long  time  supposed  tc 
contain  many  lost  treasures  of  ancient  literature — among  other 
things,  the  missing  booKs  of  Livy — but  the  recent  researches  of 
Logothetos,  the  Prince  of  Samos,  prove  that  there  is  little  of 
value  among  its  manuscripts.  Before  the  door  hangs  a  wooden 
globe,  which  is  supposed  to  be  efficacious  in  neutralizing  the 
influence  of  the  Evil  Eye.  There  are  many  ancient  altars  and 
fragments  of  pillars  scattered  about  the  courts,  and  the  Turks 
have  even  commenced  making  a  collection  of  antiquities,  which, 
with  the  exception  of  two  immense  sarcophagi  of  red  porphyry, 
contains  nothing  of  value.  They  show,  however,  one  of  the 
brazen  heads  of  the  Delphian  tripod  in  the  Hippodrome,  which, 
they  say,  Mahomet  the  Conqueror  struck  off  with  a  single  blow 
ttf  his  sword,  on  entering  Constantinople. 

The  most  interesting  portion  of  the  Seraglio  is  the  ancient 
throne-room,  now  no  longer  used,  but  still  guarded  by  a  com- 
pany of  white  eunuchs.  The  throne  is  an  immense,  heavy 
bedstead,  the  posts  of  which  are  thickly  incrusted  with  rubies, 
turquoises,  emeralds,  and  sapphires.  There  is  a  funnel-shaped 
chimney-piece  in  the  room,  a  master-work  of  Benevenuto  Cel- 
lini. There,  half  a  century  ago,  the  foreign  ambassadors 
were  presented,  after  having  been  bathed,  fed,  and  clothed  with 
a  rich  mantle  in  the  outer  apartments.  They  were  ushered 
into  the  imperial  presence,  supported  by  a  Turkish  official  on 
either  side,  in  order  that  they  might  show  no  signs  of  breaking 
down  under  the  load  of  awe  and  revereuee  they  were  supposed 
to  feel.  In  the  outer  Court,  adjoining  the  Sublime  Pcrte,  is 


348  THE  LAXDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

the  Chapel  of  the  Empress  Jreiie,  now  converted  into  at 
armory,  which,  for  its  size,  is  the  most  tasteful  and  picturesque 
collection  of  weapons  I  have  ever  seen.  It  is  especially  rich  in 
Saracenic  armor,  and  contains  many  superb  casques  of  inlaid 
gold.  In  a  large  glass  case  in  the  chancel,  one  sees  the  keys 
of  some  thirty  or  forty  cities,  with  the  date  of  their  capture. 
It  is  not  likely  that  another  will  ever  be  added  to  the  list 

We  now  passed  out  through  the  Sublime  Porte,  and  direct- 
ed our  steps  to  the  famous  Aya  Sophia — the  temple  dedicated 
by  Justinian  to  the  Divine  Wisdom.  The  repairs  made  to  the 
outer  walls  by  the  Turks,  and  the  addition  of  the  four  mina- 
rets, have  entirely  changed  the  character  of  the  building,  with- 
out injuring  its  effect.  As  a  Christian  Church,  it  must  have 
been  less  imposing  than  in  its  present  form.  A  priest  met  us  at 
the  entrance,  and  after  reading  the  firman  with  a  very  discon- 
tented face,  informed  us  that  we  could  not  enter  until  the  mid- 
day prayers  were  concluded.  After  taking  off  our  shoes,  how- 
ever, we  were  allowed  to  ascend  to  the  galleries,  whence  we 
looked  down  on  the  bowing  worshippers.  Here  the  majesty 
of  the  renowned  edifice,  despoiled  as  it  now  is,  bursts  at  once 
upon  the  eye.  The  wonderful  flat  dome,  glittering  with  its 
golden  mosaics,  and  the  sacred  phrase  from  the  Koran  :  God 
M  the  Light  of  the  Heavens  and  the.  Earth"  swims  in  the  air, 
one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  above  the  marble  pavement.  On 
the  eastern  and  western  sides,  it  rests  on  two  half  domes 
which  again  rise  from  or  rest  upon  a  group  of  three  small  half- 
domes,  so  that  the  entire  roof  of  the  mosque,  unsupported  by  a 
pillar,  seems  to  have  been  dropped  from  above  on  the  walls, 
rather  than  to  have  been  built  up  from  them.  Around  the 
adifice  run  an  upper  and  a  lower  gallery,  which  alone  preserve 


THE  MOSQUE  OF  ST.  SOPHIA.  349 

the  peculiarities  of  the  Byzantine  style  These  galleries  arc 
supported  by  the  most  precious  columns  which  ancient  art 
could  afford  :  among  them  eight  shafts  of  green  marble,  froib 
the  Temple  of  Diana,  at  Ephesus  ;  eight  of  porphyry,  from  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun,  at  Baalbek  ;  besides  Egyptian  granite  from 
the  shrines  of  Isis  and  Osiris,  and  Pentelican  marble  from  the 
sanctuary  of  Pallas  Athena.  Almost  the  whole  of  the  inte 
rior  has  been  covered  with  gilding,  but  time  has  softened  its 
brilliancy,  and  the  rich,  subdued  gleam  of  the  walls  is  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  the  varied  coloring  of  the  ancient  marbles. 

Under  the  dome,  four  Christian  seraphim,  executed  in 
mosaic,  have  been  allowed  to  remain,  but  the  names  of  the  four 
archangels  of  the  Moslem  faith  are  inscribed  underneath. 
The  bronze  doors  are  still  the  same,  the  Turks  having  taken 
great  pains  to  obliterate  the  crosses  with  which  they  were 
adorned.  Around  the  centre  of  the  dome,  as  on  that  of  Sul- 
tan Achmed,  may  be  read,  in  golden  letters,  and  in  all  the 
intricacy  of  Arabic  penmanship,  the  beautiful  "erse  : — "  God 
is  the  Light  of  the  Heavens  and  the  Earth.  His  wisdom  is 
a  light  on  the  wall,  in  which  burns  a  lamp  covered  with  glass. 
The  glass  shines  like  a  star,  the  lamp  is  lit  with  the  oil  of  a 
blessed  tree.  No  Eastern,  no  Western  oil,  it  shines  for  who- 
ever wills."  After  the  prayers  were  over,  and  we  had  descend- 
ed to  the  floor  of  the  mosque,  I  spent  the  rest  of  my  time 
under  the  dome,  fascinated  by  its  marvellous  lightness  and 
beauty.  The  worshippers  present  looked  at  us  with  curiosity, 
but  without  ill-will ;  and  before  we  left,  one  of  the  priests  came 
slyly  with  some  fragments  of  the  ancient  gilded  mosaic,  which 
he  was  heathen  enough  to  sell,  and  we  to  buy. 

From  St.  Sophia  we  went  to  Sultau  Achmed,  which  faces 


>50  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEi: 

I  lie  Hippodrome,  and  is  one  of  the  stateliest  p  les  of  Constant! 
nopie  It  is  avowedly  an  imitation  of  St.  Sophia,  and  thf 
lurks  consider  it  a  more  wonderful  work,  because  the  dome  is 
seven  feet  higher.  It  has  six  minarets,  exceeding  in  this 
respect  all  the  mosques  of  Asia.  The  dome  rests  on  fouf 
immense  pillars,  the  bulk  of  whicL  quite  oppresses  the  light 
galleries  running  around  the  walls.  This,  and  the  uniform 
white  color  of  the  interior,  impairs  the  effect  which  its  bold 
style  and  imposing  dimensions  would  otherwise  produce.  The 
outside  view,  with  the  group  of  domes  swelling  grandly  above 
the  rows  of  broad-armed  sycamores,  is  much  more  satisfactory. 
In  the  tomb  of  Sultan  Achmed,  in  one  corner  of  the  court,  we 
Baw  his  coffin,  turban,  sword,  and  jewelled  harness.  I  had 
just  been  reading  old  Sandys'  account  of  his  visit  to  Constan- 
tinople, in  1610,  during  this  Sultan's  reign,  and  could  only 
think  of  him  as  Sandys  represents  him,  in  the  title-page  to  his 
book,  as  a  fat  man,  with  bloated  cheeks,  iu  a  long  gown  and  big 
turban,  and  the  words  underneath  : — "  Achmed,  sive  Tyrannus." 
The  other  noted  mosques  of  Constantinople  are  tb?  Yet: 
Djami,  or  Mosque  of  the  Sultana  Valide,  on  the  shore  of  the 
Golden  Horn,  at  the  end  of  the  bridge  to  G-alata  ;  that  of 
Sultan  Bajazet  ;  of  Mahomet  II.,  the  Conqueror,  and  of  his 
son,  Suleyman  the  Magniflceut,  whose  superb  mosque  well 
deserves  this  title.  I  regret  exceedingly  that  our  time  did  not 
allow  us  to  view  the  interior,  for  outwardly  it  not  only  sur- 
passes St  Sophia,  and  all  other  mosques  in  the  city,  but  is 
undoubtedly  one  of  the  purest  specimens  of  Oriental  architecture 
axtaut.  It  stands  on  a  broad  terrace,  ou  one  of  the  seven  hills 
of  Stainboul.  and  its  exquisitely  proportioned  domes  and  mina- 
rets shine  as  if  crystalized  ir  the  blue  of  the  air.  It  is  a  type 


ORIENTAL   ART.  351 

of  Oriental,  as  the  Parthenon  is  of  Grecian,  ai.d  the  Cologne 
Cathedral  of  Gothic  art.  As  I  saw  it  the  other  nigLt,  lit  bj 
the  flames  of  a  conflagration,  standing  out  red  and  clear  against 
the  darkness,  I  felt  inclined  to  place  it  on  a  level  with  either 
of  those  renowned  structures.  It  is  a  product  of  the  rich 
fancy  of  the  East,  splendidly  ornate,  and  not  without  a  high 
degree  of  symmetry — yet  here  the  symmetry  is  that  of  orna- 
ment alone,  and  not  the  pure,  absolute  proportion  of  forms 
which  we  find  in  Grecian  Art.  It  requires  a  certain  degree  of 
enthusiasm — nay,  a  slight  inebriation  of  the  imaginative  facul- 
ties— in  order  to  feel  the  sentiment  of  this  Oriental  Architec- 
ture. If  I  rightly  express  all  that  it  says  to  me,  I  touch  the 
verge  of  rapsody.  The  East,  in  almost  all  its  aspects,  is  so 
essentially  poetic,  that  a  true  picture  of  it  must  be  poetic  in 
spirit,  if  not  in  form. 

Constantinople  has  been  terribly  ravaged  by  fires,  no  less 
than  fifteen  having  occurred  during  the  past  two  weeks 
Almost  every  night  the  sky  has  been  reddened  by  burning 
houses,  and  the  minarets  of  the  seven  hills  lighted  with  an 
illumination  brighter  than  that  of  the  Bairam.  All  the  space 
from  the  Hippodrome  to  the  Sea  of  Marmora  has  been  swept 
away  ;  the  lard,  honey,  and  oil  magazines  on  the  Golden  Horn, 
with  the  bazaars  adjoining  ;  several  large  blocks  on  the  hill  of 
Galata,  with  the  College  of  the  Dancing  Dervishes ;  a  part  of 
Scutari,  and  the  College  of  the  Howling  Dervishes,  all  have 
disappeared  ;  and  to-day,  the  ruins  of  3, TOO  houses,  which  were 
destroyed  last  night,  stand  smoking  in  the  Greek  quarter 
behind  the  aqueduct  of  Valens.  The  entire  amount  of  build- 
ings consumed  in  these  two  weeks  is  estimated  at  between  Jim 
«ma  nx  thousand  !  The  fire  or  the  hill  of  Galata  threatened  to 


352  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

destroy  a  great  part  of  the  suburb  ot  Pera.  It  came,  sweep 
ing  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  towards  my  hotel,  turning  thi 
tall  cypresses  iu  the  burial  ground  into  shafts  of  angry  flame, 
and  eating  away  the  crackling  dwellings  of  hordes  of  hapless 
1  urks.  I  was  in  bed,  from  a  sudden  attack  of  fever,  but  seoing 
the  other  guests  packing  up  their  effects  and  preparing  ti 
leave,  I  was  obliged  to  do  the  same  ;  and  this,  in  my  weak 
state,  brought  on  such  a  perspiration  that  the  ailment  left  me 
The  officers  of  the  United  States  steamer  San  Jacinto,  and 
the  French  frigate  Charlemagne,  came  to  the  rescue  with  their 
men  and  fire-engines,  and  the  flames  were  finally  quelled.  The 
proceedings  of  the  Americans,  who  cut  holes  in  the  roofs  and 
played  through  them  upon  the  fires  within,  were  watched  by 
the  Turks  with  stupid  amazement.  "  Mashallah  !"  said  a  fat 
Bimbashi,  as  he  stood  sweltering  in  the  heat ;  "  The  Franks 
are  a  wonderful  people." 

To  those  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  Turkish  politics, 
these  fires  are  more  than  accidental ;  they  have  a  most  weighty 
significance.  They  indicate  either  a  general  discontent  with 
the  existing  state  of  affairs,  or  else  a  powerful  plot  against  the 
Sultan  and  his  Ministry.  Setting  fire  to  houses  is,  in  fact,  the 
Turkish  method  of  holding  an  "  indignation  meeting,"  and  from 
the  rate  with  which  they  are  increasing,  the  political  crisis 
must  be  near  at  hand.  The  Sultan,  with  his  usual  kindness  of 
heart,  has  sent  large  quantities  of  tents  and  other  supplies  to 
the  guiltless  sufferers  ;  but  no  amount  of  kindness  can  soften 
the  rancor  of  these  Turkish  intrigues.  Reschid  Pasha,  the 
present  Grand  Vizier,  and  the  leader  of  the  party  of  Progress, 
is  the  person  against  whom  this  storm  of  opposition  is  now 
gathering. 


DECAY    OF    THE    OTTOMAN    POWER.  353 

In  spite  of  all  efforts,  the  Ottoman  Power  is  rapidly  waiting 
away.  The  life  of  the  Orient  is  nerveless  and  effete  ;  the 
native  strength  of  the  nice  has  died  out,  and  all  attempts  tc 
resuscitate  it  by  the  adoption  of  European  institutions  produce 
mere  galvanic  spasms,  which  leave  it  more  exhausted  than 
before.  The  rosy-colored  accounts  we  have  had  of  Turkish 
Progress  are  for  the  most  part  mere  delusions.  The  Sultan  is 
a  well-meaning  but  weak  man,  and  tyrannical  through  his  very 
weakness.  Had  he  strength  enough  to  break  through  the 
meshes  of  falsehood  and  venality  which  are  woven  so  close 
about  him,  he  might  accomplish  some  solid  good.  But  Turkish 
rule,  from  his  ministers  down  to  the  lowest  cadi,  is  a  monstrous 
system  of  deceit  and  corruption.  These  people  have  not  the 
most  remote  conception  of  the  true  aims  of  government ;  they 
only  seek  to  enrich  themselves  and  their  parasites,  at  the 
expense  of  the  people  and  the  national  treasury.  When  we 
add  to  this  the  conscript  system,  which  is  draining  the  pro- 
vinces of  their  best  Moslem  subjects,  to  the  advantage  of  the 
Christians  and  Jews,  and  .the  blindness  of  the  Revenue  Laws, 
which  impose  on  domestic  manufactures  double  the  duty  levied 
on  foreign  products,  it  will  easily  be  foreseen  that  the  next 
half-century,  or  less,  will  completely  drain  the  Turkish  Empire 
of  its  last  lingering  energies. 

Already,  in  effect,  Turkey  exists  only  through  the  jealousy 
of  the  European  nations.  The  treaty  of  Unkiar-iskelessi,  in 
1833,  threw  her  into  the  hands  of  Russia,  although  the  influ 
ence  of  England  has  of  late  years  reigned  almost  exclusively 
in  her  councils.  These  are  the  two  powers  who  are  lowering 
at  each  other  with  sleepless  eyes,  in  the  Dardanelles  and  the 
Rosphorus.  The  people,  and  most  probably  the  government 


354 


THE     LANDS     OF    THE     SARACEX. 


is  strongly  preposessed  in  favor  of  the  English  ;  bat  tne  Ras 
sian  Bear  has  a  heavy  paw,  and  when  he  puts  it  irto  the  scale, 
all  other  weights  kick  the  beam.  It  will  be  a  le  ng  and  warj 
struggle,  and  no  man  can  prophecy  the  result.  Tl  e  Turks  are 
a  people  easy  to  govern,  were  even  the  imperfect  laws,  now  in 
existence,  fairly  administered.  They  would  thrive  t\nd  improve 
ander  a  bettor  state  of  things  ;  tut  I  cannot  avoid  the  convic- 
tion -^hat  the  regeneration  of  the  East  will  never  be  effected  al 
their 


EVBARCATION 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

FABEWELL    TO     THE     ORIENT MALTA. 

fctiar  »:  in — Farewell  to  the  Orient — Leaving  Constantinople — A  Wreck— The  Da* 
dandles — Homeric  Scenery — Smyrna  Revisited — The  Grecian  Isles — Voyage  to  Malta 
—Detention — La  Valetta — The  Maltese — The  Climate — A  Boat  for  Sicily. 

"  Farewell,  ye  mountains, 

By  glory  crowned  • 
Ye  sacred  fountain!) 

Of  Gods  renowned ; 
Ye  woods  and  highlands, 

Where  heroes  dwell; 
Ye  seas  and  islands, 

Farewell !  Farewell !"  FRITHIOF'S  SAGA. 

Is  THK  DABDANELI  ES,  Saturday,  Aiiffust  7, 1809. 

AT  last,  behold  me  fairly  embarked  for  Christian  Europe,  tc 
which  I  bade  adieu  in  October  last,  eager  for  the  unknown 
wonders  of  the  Orient.  Since  then,  nearly  ten  months  have 
passed  away,  and  those  wonders  are  now  familiar  as  every-day 
experiences.  I  set  out,  determined  to  be  satisfied  with  no 
slight  taste  of  Eastern  life,  but  to  drain  to  the  bottom  its 
beaker  of  mingled  sunshine  and  sleep.  All  this  has  been 
accomplished  ;  and  if  I  have  not  wandered  so  far,  nor  enriched 
myself  with  such  varied  knowledge  of  the  relics  of  ancient 
history,  as  I  might  have  purposed  or  wished,  I  have  at  least 
learned  to  know  the  Turk  and  the  Arab,  been  soothed  by  the 
patience  inspired  by  their  fatalism,  and  warmed  by  the  gorge- 
ous  gleams  of  fancy  that  animate  their  poetry  and  religion 


358  THE  LANDS  OP  THE  SARACEN 

These  ten  months  of  my  life  form  an  episode  which  seems  to 
belong  to  a  separate  existence.  Just  refined  enough  to  be 
poetic,  and  just  barbaric  enough  to  be  freed  from  all  conven 
tioLal  fetters,  it  is  as  grateful  to  brain  and  soul,  as  an  Eastern 
bath  to  the  body.  While  I  look  forward,  not  without  pleasure, 
to  the  luxuries  and  conveniences  of  Europe,  I  relinquish  with  a 
yigh  the  refreshing  indolence  of  Asia. 

We  have  passed  between  the  Castles  of  the  two  Continents, 
guarding  the  mouth  of  the  Dardanelles,  and  are  now  entering 
the  Grecian  Sea.  To-morrow,  we  shall  touch,  for  a  few 
hours,  at  Smyrna,  and  then  turn  westward,  on  the  track  of 
Ulysses  and  St.  Paul.  Farewell,  then,  perhaps  forever,  to  the 
bright  Orient !  Farewell  to  the  gay  gardens,  the  spicy  bazaars, 
to  the  plash  of  fountains  and  the  gleam  of  golden-tipped  mina- 
rets !  Farewell  to  the  perfect  morns,  the  balmy  twilights,  the 
still  heat  of  the  blue  noons,  the  splendor  of  moon  and  stars  ! 
Farewell  to  the  glare  of  the  white  crags,  the  tawny  wastes  of 
dead  sand,  the  valleys  of  oleander,  the  hills  of  myrtle  and 
spices  !  Farewell  to  the  bath,  agent  of  purity  and  peace,  and 
parent  of  delicious  dreams — to  the  shebook,  whose  fragrant 
fumes  are  breathed  from  the  lips  of  patience  and  contentment 
— to  the  narghileh,  crowned  with  that  blessed  plant  which 
grows  in  the  gardens  of  Shiraz,  while  a  fountain  more  delight- 
ful than  those  of  Samarcand  bubbles  in  its  crystal  bosom  ! 
Farewell  to  the  red  cap  and  slippers,  to  the  big  turban,  the 
flowing  trousers,  and  the  gaudy  shawl — to  squatting  on  broad 
divans,  to  sipping  black  coffee  in  acorn  cups,  to  grave  faces  and 
talaam  aleiknoms,  and  touching  of  the  lips  and  forehead  I  Fare- 
well to  the  evening  meal  in  the  tent  door,  to  the  couch  on  the 
friendly  earth,  to  the  yells  of  the  muleteers,  to  the  deliberate 


THE    SEA    OF   MARMORA.  851 

marches  of  the  ploddiug  horse,  and  the  endless  rocking  of  the 
dromedary  that  kuoweth  his  master  !  Farewell,  finally,  tc 
annoyance  without  auger  delay  without  vexation,  indolence 
without  ennui,  endurance  without  fatigue,  appetite  without 
intemperance,  enjoyment  without  pall ! 

LA  VALRTA,  MALTA,  Saturday,  August  14, 1852. 

My  last  view  of  Stamboul  was  that  of  the  mosques  of-  St 
Sophia  and  Sultan  Achnied,  shining  faintly  in  the  moonlight, 
as  we  steamed  down  the  Sea  of  Marmora.  The  Caire  left  at 
nine  o'clock,  freighted  with  the  news  of  Reschid  Pasha's 
deposition,  and  there  were  no  signs  of  conflagration  in  all  the 
long  mi  Irs  of  the  city  that  lay  behind  us.  So  we  speculated 
uo  more  on  the  exciting  topics  of  the  day,  but  went  below  and 
took  a  vapor  bath  in  our  berths  ;  for  I  need  not  assure  you 
that  the  nights  on  the  Mediterranean  at  this  season  are  any- 
thing but  chilly.  And  here  I  must  note  the  fact,  that  the 
French  steamers,  while  dearer  than  the  Austrian,  are  more 
cramped  in  their  accommodations,  and  filled  with  a  set  of  most 
uncivil  servants.  The  table  is  good,  and  this  is  the  only  thing 
to  be  commended.  In  all  other  respects,  I  prefer  the  Lloyd 
vessels. 

Early  next  morning,  we  passed  the  promontory  of  Cyzicus, 
and  the  Island  of  Marmora,  the  marble  quarries  of  which  give 
Dame  to  the  sea.  As  we  were  approaching  the  entrance  to  the 
Dardanelles,  we  noticed  an  Austrian  brig  drifting  in  the  cur- 
rent, the  whiff  of  her  flag  indicating  distress.  Her  rudder  was 
entirely  gone,  and  she  was  floating  helplessly  towards  the  Thra- 
eian  coast.  A  boat  was  immediately  lowered  and  a  hawsei 
sarried  to  her  bows,  by  which  we  towed  he)  a  short  distance  ; 


858  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

but  our  steam  engine  did  not  like  this  drudgery,  and  snapped 
the  rope  repeatedly,  so  that  at  last  we  were  obliged  to  lea?e 
her  to  her  fate.  The  lift  we  gave,  however,  had  its  effect,  and 
by  dexterous  naanoeuvering  with  the  sails,  the  captain  brought 
her  safely  into  the  harbor  of  Gallipoli,  where  she  dropped 
anchor  beside  us, 

Beyond  Gallipoli,  the  Dardanelles  contract,  and  the  opposing 
continents  rise  into  lofty  and  barren  hills.  In  point  of  natural 
beanty,  this  strait  is  greatly  inferior  to  the  Bosphorus.  It 
lacks  the  streams  and  wooded  valleys  which  open  upon  the 
latter.  The  country  is  but  partially  cultivated,  except  around 
the  town  of  Dardanelles,  near  the  mouth  of  the  strait.  The 
si'',e  of  the  bridge  of  Xerxes  is  easily  recognized,  the  conforma- 
t)3n  of  the  different  shores  seconding  the  decision  of  anti- 
quarians. Here,  too,  are  Sestos  and  Abydos,  of  passionate 
and  poetic  memory.  But  as  the  sun  dipped  towards  the  sea, 
we  passed  out  of  the  narrow  gateway.  On  our  left  lay  the 
plain  of  Troy,  backed  by  the  blue  range  of  Mount  Ida.  The 
tumulus  of  Patroclus  crowned  a  low  bluff  looking  on  the  sea. 
On  the  right  appeared  the  long,  irregular  island  of  Imbros, 
and  the  peaks  of  misty  Samothrace  over  and  beyond  it.  Tene- 
dos  was  before  us  The  red  flush  of  sunset  tinged  the  grand 
Homeric  landscape,  and  lingered  and  lingered  on  the  summit 
of  Ida,  as  if  loth  to  depart.  I  paced  the  deck  until  long  aftei 
it  was  too  dark  to  distinguish  it  any  more. 

The  next  morning  we  dropped  anchor  in  the  harbor  of 
Smyrna,  where  we  remained  five  hours.  I  engaged  a  donkey, 
and  rode  out  to  the  Caravan  Bridge,  where  the  Greek  drivei 
aud  I  smoked  narghilc-hs-and  drank  coffee  in  the  shade  of  th« 
icacias.  I  contrasted  my  impressions  with  those  of  my  6re< 


SMYRNA    REVISITED. 


85* 


visit  to  Smyrna  last  October — my  first  glimpse  of  Oriental 
ground.  Then,  every  dog  barked  at  me,  and  all  the  horde  of 
human  creatures  who  prey  upon  innocent  travellers  ran  at  mj 
heels,  but  now,  with  my  brown  face  and  Turkish  aspect  of 
grave  indifference,  I  was  suffered  to  pass  as  quietly  as  my 
donkey-driver  himself.  Nor  did  the  latter,  nor  the  ready 
aijidji,  who  filled  our  pipes  on  the  banks  of  the  Meles,  attempt 
to  overcharge  me — a  sure  sign  that  the  Orient  had  left  its  seal 
on  my  face.  Returning  through  the  city,  the  same  mishap 
befel  me  which  travellers  usually  experience  on  their  first 
arrival.  My  donkey,  while  dashing  at  full  speed  through  a 
crowd  of  Smyrniotes  in  their  Sunday  dresses,  slipped  up  in  t 
little  pool  of  black  mud,  and  came  down  with  a  crash.  I  flew 
over  his  head  and  alighted  firmly  on  my  feet,  but  the  spruct 
young  Greeks,  whose  snowy  fastanelles  were  terribly  bespat 
tered,  came  off  much  worse.  The  donkey  shied  back,  levelled 
his  ears  and  twisted  his  head  on  one  side,  awaiting  a  beating, 
but  his  bleeding  legs  saved  him. 

We  left  at  two  o'clock,  touched  at  Scio  in  the  evening,  and 
the  next  morning  at  sunrise  lay-to  in  the  harbor  of  Syra.  The 
Piraeus  was  only  twelve  hours  distant  -}  but  after  my  visitation 
of  fever  in  Constantinople,  I  feared  to  encounter  the  pestilen- 
tial summer  heats  of  Athens.  Besides,  I  had  reasons  for 
hastening  with  all  speed  to  Italy  and  Germany.  At  ten 
o'clock  we  weighed  anchor  again  and  steered  southwards, 
between  the  groups  of  the  Cyciades,  under  a  cloudless  sky  and 
ever  a  sea  of  the  brightest  blue.  The  days  were  endurable  under 
».he  canvas  awning  of  our  quarter-deck,  but  the  nights  in  our 
berths  were  sweat-baths,  which  left  us  so  limp  and  exhausted 
••.hat  we  were  almost  fit  to  vanish,  like  ghosts,  at  daybreak. 


858  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

bnt  our  steam  engine  did  not  like  this  drudgery,  and  snapped 
the  rope  repeatedly,  so  that  at  last  we  were  obliged  to  leave 
her  to  her  fate.  The  lift  we  gave,  however,  had  its  effect,  and 
by  dexterous  raanoeuvering  with  the  sails,  the  captain  brought 
her  safely  into  the  harbor  of  Gallipoli,  where  she  dropped 
anchor  beside  us, 

Beyond  Gallipoli,  the  Dardanelles  contract,  and  the  opposing 
continents  rise  into  lofty  and  barren  hills.  In  point  of  natural 
beanty,  this  strait  is  greatly  inferior  to  the  Bosphorus.  It 
lacks  the  streams  and  wooded  valleys  which  open  upon  the 
latter.  The  country  is  but  partially  cultivated,  except  around 
the  town  of  Dardanelles,  near  the  mouth  of  the  strait.  The 
si'';e  of  the  bridge  of  Xerxes  is  easily  recognized,  the  conforma- 
ti3n  of  the  different  shores  seconding  the  decision  of  anti- 
quarians. Here,  too,  are  Sestos  and  Abydos,  of  passionate 
and  poetic  memory.  But  as  the  sun  dipped  towards  the  sea, 
we  passed  out  of  the  narrow  gateway.  On  our  left  lay  the 
plain  of  Troy,  backed  by  the  blue  range  of  Mount  Ida.  The 
tumulus  of  Patroclus  crowned  a  low  bluff  looking  on  the  sea. 
On  the  right  appeared  the  long,  irregular  island  of  Imbros, 
and  the  peaks  of  misty  Samothrace  over  and  beyond  it.  Tene- 
dos  was  before  us  The  red  flush  of  sunset  tinged  the  grand 
Homeric  landscape,  and  lingered  and  lingered  on  the  summit 
of  Ida,  as  if  loth  to  depart.  I  paced  the  deck  until  long  aftei 
it  was  too  dark  to  distinguish  it  any  more. 

The  next  morning  we  dropped  anchor  in  the  harbor  of 
Smyrna,  where  we  remained  five  hours.  I  engaged  a  donkey, 
and  rode  out  to  the  Caravan  Bridge,  where  the  Cireek  drivei 
aud  I  smoked  narghilehs-and  drank  coffee  in  the  shade  of  th« 
icacias.  I  contrasted  my  impressions  with  those  of  my  6re< 


SMYRNA    REVISITED. 

« 

visit  to  Smyrna  last  October — my  first  glimpse  of  Oriental 
ground  Then,  every  dog  barked  at  me,  and  all  the  horde  of 
human  creatures  who  prey  upon  innocent  travellers  ran  at  my 
heels,  but  now,  with  my  brown  face  and  Turkish  aspect  of 
grave  indifference,  I  was  suffered  to  pass  as  quietly  as  my 
donkey-driver  himself.  Xor  did  the  latter,  nor  the  ready 
(xifidji,  who  filled  our  pipes  on  the  banks  of  the  Meles,  attempt 
to  overcharge  me — a  sure  sign  that  the  Orient  had  left  its  seal 
on  my  face.  Returning  through  the  city,  the  same  mishap 
befel  me  which  travellers  usually  experience  on  their  first 
arrival.  My  donkey,  while  dashing  at  full  speed  through  a 
crowd  of  Smyrniotes  in  their  Sunday  dresses,  slipped  up  in  6 
little  pool  of  black  mud,  and  came  down  with  a  crash.  I  flew 
over  his  head  and  alighted  firmly  on  my  feet,  but  the  spruct 
young  Greeks,  whose  snowy  fustanelles  were  terribly  bespat 
tered,  came  off  much  worse.  The  donkey  shied  back,  levelled 
his  ears  and  twisted  his  head  on  one  side,  awaiting  a  beating, 
but  his  bleeding  legs  saved  him. 

We  left  at  two  o'clock,  touched  at  Scio  in  the  evening,  and 
the  next  morning  at  sunrise  lay-to  in  the  harbor  of  Syra.  The 
Pirseus  was  only  twelve  hours  distant  j  but  after  my  visitation 
of  fever  in  Constantinople,  I  feared  to  encounter  the  pestilen- 
tial summer  heats  of  Athens.  Besides,  I  had  reasons  for 
hastening  with  all  speed  to  Italy  and  Germany.  At  ten 
a'clock  we  weighed  anchor  again  and  steered  southwards, 
between  the  groups  of  the  Cyciades,  under  a  cloudless  sky  and 
ever  a  sea  of  the  brightest  blue.  The  days  were  endurable  under 
die  canvas  awning  of  our  quarter-deck,  but  the  nights  in  our 
berths  were  sweat-baths,  which  left  us  so  limp  and  exhausted 
•Jiat  we  were  almost  (U.  to  vanish,  like  ghosts,  at  daybreak. 


862  THK     LANDS     OF    THE     SARACEN. 

except  a  love-sick  young  damsel  who  spoke  with  a  rough  mascn 
line  voice,  and  made  long  strides  across  the  stage  when  she  rushed 
into  her  lover's  arms.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  exhaust 
ing  character  of  the  heat.  The  thermometer  shows  90°  by  day, 
and  80°  to  85°  by  night — a  much  lower  temperature  than  I 
have  found  quite  comfortable  in  Africa  and  Syria.  In  the 
Desert  100°  in  the  shade  is  rather  bracing  than  otherwise  ; 
here,  90°  renders  all  exercise,  more  severe  than  smoking  a  pipe, 
impossible.  Even  in  a  state  of  complete  inertia,  a  shirt-collar 
will  fall  starchless  in  five  minutes. 

Rather  than  waste  eight  more  days  in  this  glimmering  half- 
existence,  I  have  taken  passage  in  a  Maltese  speronara,  which 
sails  this  evening  for  Catania,  in  Sicily,  where  the  grand  festi- 
val of  St.  Agatha,  which  takes  place  once  in  a  hundred  years, 
will  be  celebrated  next  week.  The  trip  promises  a  new  expe- 
rience, and  I  shall  get  a  taste,  slight  though  it  be,  of  the  golden 
Triuacria  of  the  ancients.  Perhaps,  after  all,  this  delay  which 
so  vexes  me  (bear  in  mind,  I  am  no  longer  in  the  Orient  !)  may 
be  meant  solely  for  my  good.  At  least,  Mr.  Winthrop,  our 
Consul  here,  who  has  been  exceedingly  kind  and  courteous  to  me 
thinks  it  a  rare  good  fortune  that  I  shall  see  the  Oatanini 
festa 


863 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

THE    FESTIVAL    OP    ST.     AGATHA 

Dep*tture  from  Malta— The  Speronara— Our  Fellow-Passengers— The  first  Nlglt  oa 
Board— Sicily — Scarcity  of  Provisions— Beating  in  the  Calabrian  Channel — The 
Fourth  Morning— The  Gulf  of  Catania — A  Sicilian  Landscape — The  Anchorage — Thi 
Suspected  List— The  Streets  of  Catania — Biography  of  St.  Agatha — The  Illumination! 
—The  Procession  of  the  Veil— The  Biscari  Palace— The  Antiquities  of  Catania— Th« 
Convent  of  St.  Nicola. 

"  The  morn  is  full  of  holiday,  loud  bells 
With  rival  clamors  ring  from  every  spire  ; 
Cunningly-stationed  music  dies  and  swells 
In  echoing  places  ;  when  the  winds  respire, 
Light  flags  stream  out  like  gauzy  tongues  of  fire." — KEATS 

CATANIA,  Sicily,  Friday,  AugvM  20, 1858. 

1  WENT  on  board  the  speronara  iu  the  harbor  of  La  Valetta  at 
the  appointed  hour  (5  p.  M.),  and  found  the  remaining  sixteen 
pas?er.<rers  already  embarked.  The  captain  made  his  appear- 
ance an  hour  later,  with  our  bill  of  health  and  passports,  and 
as  the  sun  went  down  behind  the  brown  hills  of  the  island,  we 
passed  the  wave-worn  rocks  of  the  promontory,  dividing  the 
two  harbors,  and  slowly  moved  off  towards  Sicily. 

The  Maltese  speronara,  resembles  the  ancient  Roman  galley 
more  than  any  modern  craft.  It  has  the  same  high,  curved 
poop  and  stern,  the  same  short  masts  and  broad,  square  sails. 
The  hull  is  too  broad  for  speed,  but  this  adds  to  the  security 


364  THE   LANns   OF  THE   SARACES. 

of  the  vessel  in  a  gale.  With  a  fair  wind,  it  rarely  makes  mow 
than  eight.knots  an  hour,  and  in  a  calm,  the  sailors  (if  not  too 
lazy)  propel  it  forward  with  six  long  oars.  The  hull  is  painted 
in  a  fanciful  style,  generally  blue,  red,  green  and  white,  with 
bright  red  masts.  The  bulwarks  are  low,  and  the  deck  of  such 
a  convexity  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  walk  it  in  a  heavy  sea. 
Such  was  the  vessel  to  which  I  found  myself  consigned.  It  was 
not  more  than  fifty  feet  long,  and  of  less  capacity  than  a  Xile 
diihobiyeh.  There  was  a  sort  of  deck  cabin,  or  crib,  with  two 
berths,  but  most  of  the  passengers  slept  in  the  hold.  For  a 
passage  to  Catania  I  was  obliged  to  pay  forty  francs,  the 
owner  swearing  that  this  was  the  regular  price  ;  but,  as  1 
afterwards  discovered,  the  Maltese  only  paid  thirty-six  franc* 
for  the  whole  trip.  However,  the  Captain  tried  to  make  up 
the  money's  worth  in  civilities,  and  was  incessant  in  his  atten- 
tions to  "  your  Lordships,"  as  he  styled  myself  and  my  com- 
panion, Caesar  di  Cagnola,  a  young  Milanese. 

The  Maltese  were  tailors  and  clerks,  who  were  taking  a 
holiday  trip  to  witness  the  great  festival  of  St.  Agatha.  With 
two  exceptions,  they  were  a  wild  and  senseless,  though  good- 
uatured  set,  and  in  spite  of  sea-sickness,  which  exercised  there 
terribly  for  the  first  two  days,  kept  up  a  constant  jabber  in 
their  bastard  Arabic  from  morning  till  night.  As  is  usual  ir 
such  a  company,  one  of  them  was  obliged  to  serve  as  a  butt  for 
the  rest,  and  "  Maestro  Paolo,"  as  they  termed  him,  wore  such 
a  profoundly  serious  face  all  the  while,  from  his  sea-sickness, 
that  the  fun  never  came  to  an  end.  As  they  were  going  to  a 
religious  festival,  some  of  them  had  brought  their  breviaries 
along  with  them  ;  but  I  am  obliged  to  testify  that,  after  the 
8rst  day,  prayers  were  totally  forgotten.  The  sailors,  how 


365 


ever,  wore  linen  bags,  printed  with  a  figure  of  the  Madonna 
around  their  necks. 

The  sea  was  rather  rough,  but  Caesar  and  I  fortified  OUT 
stomachs  with  a  bottle  of  English  ale,  and  as  it  was  dark  by 
this  time,  sought  our  resting-places  for  the  night.  As  we  had 
paid  double,  placf.s  were  assured  us  in  the  coop  on  deck,  but 
beds  were  not  included  in  the  bargain.  The  Maltese,  who  had 
brought  mattresses  and  spread  a  large  Phalansteriau  bed  in 
the  hold,  fared  much  better.  I  took  one  of  my  carpet  bags 
for  a  pillow  and  lay  down  on  the  planks,  where  I  succeeded  in 
getting  a  little  sleep  between  the  groans  of  the  helpless  land- 
lubbers. We  had  the  ponente,  or  west-wind,  all  night,  but  the 
speronara  moved  sluggishly,  and  in  the  morning  it  changed  to 
the  greco-leranle,  or  north-east.  No  land  was  in  sight  ;  but 
towards  noon,  the  sky  became  clearer,  and  we  saw  the  southern 
const  of  Sicily  —  a  bold  mountain-shore,  looming  phantom-like 
in  the  distance.  Cape  Passaro  was  to  the  east,  and  the  rest  of 
the  day  was  spent  in  beating  up  to  it.  At  sunset,  we  were 
near  enough  to  see  the  villages  and  olive-groves  of  the  beauti- 
ful shore,  and,  far  behind  the  nearer  mountains,  ninety  miles 
distant,  the  solitary  cone  of  Etna. 

The  second  night  passed  like  the  first,  except  that  our 
bruised  limbs  were  rather  more  sensitive  to  the  texture  of  the 
planks.  We  crawled  out  of  our  coop  at  dawn,  expecting  to 
behold  Catftaia  in  the  distance  ;  but  there  was  Cape  Passaro 
Etill  staring  us  in  the  face.  The  Maltese  were  patient,  and  we 
did  not  complain,  though  Caesar  and  I  began  to  make  nice  cal- 
culations as  to  the  probable  duration  of  our  two  cold  fowls 
and  three  loaves  of  bread.  The  promontory  of  Syracuse  wag 
barely  visible  forty  miles  ahead  ;  b  it  the  wind  was  against  us 


366  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

and  so  another  day  passed  in  beating  up  the  eastern  coa^t, 
At  dusk,  we  overtook  another  speronara  which  had  left  Malt* 
two  hours  before  us,  and  this  was  quite  a  triumph  to  our  cap 
tain.  All  the  oars  were  shipped,  the  sailors  and  some  of  tie 
more  courageous  passengers  took  hold,  and  we  shot  ahead, 
scudding  rapidly  along  the  dark  shores,  to  the  sound  of  the 
wild  Maltese  songs.  At  length,  the  promontory  was  gained, 
and  the  restless  current,  rolling  down  from  Scylla  and  Charyb- 
dis,  tossed  our  little  bark  from  wave  to  wave  with  a  reckless- 
ness that  would  have  made  any  one  nervous  but  an  old  sailor 
like  myself. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  said  the  Captain,  "  we  shall  sail  into 
Catania  ;"  but  after  a  third  night  on  the  planks,  which  were 
now  a  little  softer,  we  rose  to  find  ourselves  abreast  of  Syra- 
cuse, with  Etna  as  distant  as  ever.  The  wind  was  light,  and 
what  little  we  made  by  tacking  was  swept  away  by  the  cur- 
rent, so  that,  after  wasting  the  whole  forenoon,  we  kept  a 
straight  course  across  the  mouth  of  the  channel,  and  at  sunset 
saw  the  Calabrian  Mountains.  This  move  only  lost  us  more 
ground,  as  it  happened.  Caesar  and  I  mournfully  and  silently 
consumed  our  last  fragment  of  beef,  with  the  remaining  dry 
trusts  of  bread,  and  then  sat  down  doggedly  to  smoke  and  see 
whether  the  captain  would  discover  our  situation.  But  no  ; 
while  we  were  supplied,  the  whole  vessel  was  at  our  Lordships' 
command,  and  now  that  we  were  destitute,  he  took  care  to 
make  no  rash  offers.  Caesar,  at  last,  with  an  imperial  dignity 
becoming  his  name,  commanded  dinner.  It  came,  and  the  pork 
and  maccaroni,  moistened  with  red  Sicilian  wine,  gave  us 
patience  for  another  day. 

The    fourth    morning    dawned,    and — Great    Neptune    be 


THE   GULF   OV  CATANIA.  367 

praised! — we  were  actually  within  the  Gulf  of  Catania.  Etna 
loomed  up  in  all  h;s  sublime  bulk,  unobscured  by  cloud  or  mist 
while  a  slender  jet  of  smoke  rising  from  his  crater,  was  slowlj1 
curling  its  wreaths  in  the  clear  air,  as  if  happy  to  receive  the 
first  beam  of  the  sun.  The  towers  of  Syracuse,  which  had 
mocked  us  all  the  preceding  day,  were  no  longer  visible  ;  the 
land-locked  little  port  of  Augusta  lay  behind  us  ;  and,  as  the 
wind  continued  favorable,  erelong  we  saw  a  faint  white  mark 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  This  was  Catania.  The  shores 
of  the  bay  were  enlivened  with  olive-groves  and  the  gleam  of 
the  villages,  while  here  and  there  a  single  palm  dreamed  of  it? 
brothers  across  the  sea.  Etna,  of  course,  had  the  monarch's 
place  in  the  landscape,  but  even  his  large,  magnificent  outlines 
could  not  usurp  all  my  feeling.  The  purple  peaks  to  the  west- 
ward and  farther  inland,  had  a  beauty  of  their  own,  and  in  the 
gentle  curves  with  which  they  leaned  towards  each  other,  there 
was  a  promise  of  the  flowery  meadows  of  Enna.  The  smooth 
blue  water  was  speckled  with  fishing-boats.  We  hailed  one, 
inquiring  when  the  festa  was  to  commence  ;  but,  mistaking  our 
question,  they  answered  :  "  Anchovies."  Thereupon,  a  waggish 
Maltese  informed  them  that  Maestro  Paolo  thanked  them 
heartily.  All  the  other  boats  were  hailed  in  the  name  of 
Maestro  Paolo,  who.  having  recovered  from  his  sea-sickness, 
took  his  bantering  good-humoredly. 

Catania  presented  a  lovely  picture,  as  we  drew  near  the 
harbor.  Planted  at  the  very  foot  of  Etna,  it  has  a  background 
such  as  neither  Naples  nor  Genoa  can  boast.  The  hills  next 
the  sea  are  covered  with  gardens  and  orchards,  sprinkled  with 
little  villages  and  the  country  palaces  of  the  nobles — a  rich, 
cultured  landscape,  which  gradually  merges  into  the  forests  of 


868  THE    LANDS    OF    THE    SARACEK 

oak  and  chestnut  that  girdle  the  waist  of  the  great  volcano 
But  all  the  wealth  of  southern  vegetation  cannot  hide  the 
footsteps  of  that  Ruin,  which  from  time  to  time  visits  the  soil, 
Half-way  up,  the  mountain-side  is  dotted  with  cones  of  ashes  and 
cinders,  some  covered  with  the  scanty  shrubbery  which  centuries 
have  called  forth,  some  barren  and  recent ;  while  two  dark, 
winding  streams  of  sterile  lava  descend  to  the  very  shore, 
where  they  stand  congealed  in  ragged  needles  and  pyramids. 
Part  of  one  of  these  black  floods  has  swept  the  town,  and, 
tumbling  into  the  sea,  .walls  one  side  of  the  port. 

We  glided  slowly  past  the  mole,  and  dropped  anchor  a  few 
yards  from  the  shore.  There  was  a  sort  of  open  promenade 
planted  with  trees,  in  front  of  us,  surrounded  with  high  white 
houses,  above  which  rose  the  dome  of  the  Cathedral  and  the 
spires  of  other  churches.  The  magnificent  palace  of  Prince 
Biscari  was  on  our  right,  and  at  its  foot  the  Customs  and 
Revenue  offices.  Every  roof,  portico,  and  window  was  lined 
with  lamps,  a  triumphal  arch  spanned  the  street  before  the 
palace,  and  the  landing-place  at  the  offices  was  festooned  with 
crimson  and  white  drapery,  spangled  with  gold.  While  we 
were  waiting  permission  to  land,  a  scene  presented  itself  which 
recalled  the  pagan  days  of  Sicily  to  my  mind.  A  procession 
came  in  sight  from  under  the  trees,  and  passed  along  the  shore. 
In  the  centre  was  borne  a  stately  shrine,  hung  with  garlands, 
und  containing  an  image  of  St.  Agatha.  The  sound  of  flutea 
and  cymbals  accompanied  it,  and  a  band  of  children,  bearing 
orange  and  palm  branches,  danced  riotously  before.  Had  the 
image  been  Pan  instead  of  St.  Agatha,  the  ceremonies  would 
have  been  quite  as  appropriate. 

The  speronara's  boat  at  last  took  us  to  the  gorgeous  landing 


THE     SUSPECTED     LIST.  869 

place  where  we  were  carefully  counted  by  a  fat  Sicilian  official, 
and  declared  free  from  quarantine.  We  were  then  called  into 
ihe  Passport  Office,  where  the  Maltese  underwent  a  searching 
examination.  One  of  the  officers  sat  with  the  Black  Book,  01 
list  of  suspected  persons  of  all  nations,  open  before  him,  ami 
looked  for  each  name  as  it  was  called  out.  Another  scanm-n 
the  faces  of  the  frightened  tailors,  as  if  comparing  them  with 
certain  revolutionary  visages  in  his  mind.  Terrible  was  the 
keen,  detective  glance  of  his  eye,  and  it  went  straight  through 
the  poor  Maltese,  who  vanished  with  great  rapidity  when  they 
were  declared  free  to  enter  the  city.  At  last,  they  all  passed 
the  ordeal,  but  Caesar  and  I  remained,  looking  in  at  the  door. 
"  There  are  still  these  two  Frenchmen,"  said  the  captain.  "  1 
am  no  Frenchman,"  I  protested  ;  "  I  am  an  Am°ricau."  "  And 
I,"  said  Caesar,  "  am  an  Austrian  subject."  Thereupon  we 
received  a  polite  invitation  to  enter  ;  the  terrible  glance  softened 
into  a  benign,  respectful  smile  ;  he  of  the  Black  Book  ran 
lightly  over  the  C's  and  T's,  and  said,  with  a  courteous  inclina- 
tion :  "There  is  nothing  against  the  signori."  I  felt  quite 
relieved  by  this  ;  for,  in  the  Mediterranean,  one  is  never  safe 
from  spies,  and  no  person  is  too  insignificant  to  escape  the  ban, 
if  once  suspected. 

Calabria  was  filled  to  overflowing  with  strangers  from  all 
parts  of  the  Two  Sicilies,  and  we  had  some  difficulty  in  finding 
very  bad  and  dear  lodgings.  It  was  the  first  day  of  the  festat 
and  the  streets  were  filled  with  peasants,  the  men  in  black 
relvet  jackets  and  breeches,  with  stockings,  and  long  white  cot- 
ton caps  hanging  on  the  shoulders,  and  the  women  with  gay 
silk  shawls  on  their  heads,  after  the  manner  of  the  Mexican 
rcboza.  lu  all  the  public  squares,  the  market  scene  in  Masa 

16* 


370  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SAKAC&N. 

niello  was  acted  to  the  life.  The  Sicilian  dialect  is  harsh  and 
barbarous,  and  the  original  Italian  is  so  disguised  by  the  admii 
ture  of  Arabic,  Spanish,  French,  and  Greek  words,  that  eveu 
my  imperial  friend,  who  was  a  born  Italian,  had  great  difficulty 
in  understanding  the  people. 

I  purchased  a  guide  to  the  festa,  which,  among  other  things 
contained  a  biography  of  St.  Agatha.  It  is  a  beautiful  speci- 
men of  pious  writing,  and  I  regret  that  I  have  not  space  to 
translate  the  whole  of  it.  Agatha  was  a  beautiful  Catanian 
virgin,  who  secretly  embraced  Christianity  during  the  reign  of 
Nero.  Catania  was  then  governed  by  a  praetor  named  Quin 
tiauus,  who,  becoming  enamored  of  Agatha,  used  the  most 
brutal  means  to  compel  her  to  submit  to  his  desires,  but  with- 
out effect.  At  last,  driven  to  the  crudest  extremes,  he  cut  off 
her  breasts,  and  threw  her  into  prison.  But  at  midnight,  St. 
Peter,  accompanied  by  an  angel,  appeared  to  her,  restored  the 
maimed  parts,  and  left  her  more  beautiful  thau  ever.  Quin- 
tiauus  then  ordered  a  furnace  to  be  heated,  and  cast  her 
therein.  A  terrible  earthquake  shook  the  city  ;  the  sun  was 
eclipsed  ;  the  sea  rolled  backwards,  and  left  its  bottom  dry  ; 
•he  praetor's  palace  fell  in  ruins,  and  he,  pursued  by  the  ven- 
geance of  the  populace,  fled  till  he  reached  the  river  Siuieto, 
where  he  was  drowned  in  attempting  to  cross.  "The  thunders 
of  the  vengeance  of  God,"  says  the  biography,  "  struck  him 
down  into  the  profouudest  Hell !"  This  was  iu  the  y&ur 
252. 

The  body  was  carried  to  Constantinople  in  1040,  •'  although 
the  Cataniaus  wept  incessantly  at  their  loss  ;"  but  in  1126,  twc 
French  knights,  named  Gilisbert  and  Goselin,  were  moved  by 
augelic  influences  to  restore  it  to  its  native  town,  ^  hich  the\ 


THE    ILLUMINATION  371 

accomplished,  "  and  the  eyes  of  the  Catanian?  tigain  burned 
with  joy."  The  miracles  effected  by  the  saint  are  numberless 
and  her  power  is  especially  efficacious  in  preventing  earth- 
quakes and  eruptions  of  Mount  Etna.  Nevertheless,  Catauia 
has  suffered  more  from  these  causes  than  any  other  town  in 
Sicily.  But  I  would  that  all  saints  had  as  good  a  claim  tc 
canonization  as  St.  Agatha.  The  honors  of  such  a  festival  as 
this  are  not  out  of  place,  when  paid  to  such  youth,  beauty, 
and  "  heavenly  chastity,"  as  she  typifies. 

The  guide,  which  I  have  already  consulted,  gives  a  full 
account  of  the  festa,  in  advance,  with  a  description  of  Catania. 
The  author  says  :  "  If  thy  heart  is  not  inspired  by  gazing  on 
this  lovely  city,  it  is  a  fatal  sign — thou  wert  not  born  to  feel 
the  sweet  impulses  of  the  Beautiful !"  Then,  in  announcing 
the  illuminations  and  pyrotechnic  displays,  he  exclaims  :  "  Oh, 
the  amazing  spectacle  1  Oh,  how  happy  art  thou,  that  thon 
b"holdest  it  !  What  pyramids  of  lamps  !  What  myriads  of 
rockets  !  What  wonderful  temples  of  flame  !  The  Mountain 
himself  is  astonished  at  such  a  display."  And  truly,  except 
the  illumination  of  the  Golden  Horn  on  the  Night  of  Predes- 
tination, I  have  seen  nothing  equal  to  the  spectacle  presented 
by  Catania,  during  the  past  three  nights.  The  city,  which  has 
beeu  built  up  from  her  ruins  more  stately  than  ever,  was  in  a 
blaze  of  light — all  her  domes,  towers,  and  the  long  lines  of  her 
beautiful  palaces  revealed  in  the  varying  red  and  golden  flames 
of  a  hundred  thousand  lamps  and  torches.  Pyramids  of  lire, 
transparencies,  and  illuminated  triumphal  arches  filled  the  four 
principal  streets,  and  the  fountain  in  the  Cathedral  square 
gleamed  like  a  jet  of  molten  silver,  spinning  up  from  one  of  the 
pores  of  Etna.  At  ten  o'clock,  a  gorgeous  display  of  fire-workj 


372  THE    LANDS    OF    THE    SARACEN. 

closed  the  day's  festivities,  but  the  lamps  remained  burning 
nearly  all  night. 

On  the  second  night,  the  grand  Procession  of  the  Yeil  took 
place.  I  witnessed  this  imposing  spectacle  from  the  balcony 
cf  Prince  Gessina's  pala  :e.  Long  lines  of  waxen  torches  led 
the  way,  followed  by  a  military  band,  and  then  a  company  of 
the  highest  prelates,  in  their  most  brilliant  costumes,  surround 
ing  the  Bishop,  who  walked  under  a  canopy  of  silk  and  gold, 
bearing  the  miraculous  veil  of  St.  Agatha.  I  was  blessed  with 
a  distant  view  of  it,  but  could  see  no  traces  of  the  rosy  hue 
left  upon  it  by  the  flames  of  the  Saint's  martyrdom.  Behind 
the  priests  came  the  Intendente  of  Sicily,  Gen.  Filangieri,  the 
same  who,  three  years  ago,  gave  up  Catania  to  sack  and 
slaughter.  He  was  followed  by  the  Senate  of  the  City,  who 
have  just  had  the  cringing  cowardice  to  offer  him  a  ball  on 
next  Sunday  night.  If  ever  a  man  deserved  the  vengeance  of 
an  outraged  people,  it  is  this  Filangieri,  who  was  first  a  Liberal, 
when  the  cause  promised  success,  and  then  made  himself  the 
scourge  of  the  vilest  of  kings.  As  he  passed  me  last  night  in 
his  carriage  of  State,  while  the  music  peak-d  iu  rich  rejoicing 
strains,  that  solemn  chant  with  which  the  monks  break  upon 
the  revellers,  iu  "  Lncrezia  Borgia,"  came  into  my  mind  : 

"  La  gioja  dei  profani 
1 E  un  fumo  passagier' — " 

[the  rejoicing  of  the  profane  is  a  transitory  mist.]  I  heard, 
under  the  din  of  all  these  festivities,  the  voice  of  that  Retribu 
tion  which  even  now  lies  in  wait,  and  will  not  long  be  delayed. 
To-night  Signer  Scavo,  the  American  Vice-Consul,  took  me 
u>  the  palace  of  Prince  Biscari,  overlooking  the  harbor,  ii 


TH£     BISCARI     PALACE.  878 

order  to  behold  the  grand  display  of  fireworks  from  the  end  of 
the  mole.  The  showers  of  rockets  and  colored  stars,  and  tlu 
temples  of  blue  and  silver  fire,  were  repeated  in  the  dark,  quiet 
bosom  of  the  sea,  producing  the  most  dazzling  and  startling 
effects.  There  was  a  large  number  of  the  Catauese  uobilitj 
present,  and  among  them  a  Marchesa  Gioveni,  the  descendant 
of  the  bloody  house  of  Anjou.  Prince  Biscari  is  a  benign, 
courtly  old  man,  and  greatly  esteemed  here.  His  son  is  at 
present  in  exile,  on  account  of  the  part  he  took  in  the  late 
revolution.  During  the  sack  of  the  city  under  Filangieri,  the 
palace  was  plundered  of  property  to  the  amount  of  ten  thou- 
sand dollars.  The  museum  of  Greek  and  Roman  antiquitie/ 
attached  to  it,  and  which  the  house  of  Biscari  has  been  collect- 
ing for  many  years,  is  probably  the  finest  in  Sicily.  The  state 
apartments  were  thrown  open  this  evening,  and  when  I  left,  at 
hour  ago,  the  greater  portion  of  the  guests  were  going  through 
mazy  quadrilles  on  the  mosaic  pavements. 

Among  the  antiquities  of  Catania  which  I  have  visited,  are 
the  Amphitheatre,  capable  of  holding  15,000  persons,  the  old 
Greek  Theatre,  the  same  in  which  Alcibiades  made  his  noted 
harangue  to  the  Catanians,  the  Odeon,  and  the  ancient  Baths 
The  theatre,  which  is  in  tolerable  preservation,  is  built  of  lava 
like  many  of  the  modern  edifices  in  the  city.  The  Baths 
proved  to  me,  what  I  had  supposed,  that  the  Oriental  Bath  of 
t'io  present  day  is  identical  with  that  of  the  Ancients.  Why 
so  admirable  an  institution  has  never  been  introduced  into 
Europe  (except  in  the  Sains  Chinou  of  Paris)  is  more  than  I 
can  tell  From  the  pavement  of  these  baths,  which  is  nearly 
twenty  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  earth,  the  lava  of  later 
eruptions  has  burst  up,  in  places,  ir  hard  black  jets.  The  most 


374  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

wonderful  token  of  that  flood  which  whelmed  Catania  tac 
hundred  years  ago,  is  to  be  seen  at  the  Grand  Benedictine 
Convent  of  San  Nicola,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city.  Here 
the  stream  of  lava  divides  itself  just  before  the  Convent,  and 
flows  past  on  both  sides,  leaving  the  building  and  gardens 
untouched.  The  marble  courts,  the  fountains,  the  splendid 
galleries,  and  the  gardens  of  richest  southern  bloom  and  fra 
grance,  stand  like  an  epicurean  island  in  the  midst  of  the  terri 
ble  stony  waves,  whose  edges  bristle  with  the  thorny  aloe  and 
cactus.  The  monks  of  San  Nicola  are  all  chosen  from  the 
Sicilian  nobility,  and  live  a  comfortable  life  of  luxury  and  vice. 
Each  one  has  his  own  carriage,  horses,  and  servants,  and  each 
his  private  chambers  outside  of  the  convent  walls  and  his  kept 
concubines.  These  facts  are  known  and  acknowledged  by  the 
Catanians,  to  whom  they  are  a  lasting  scandal. 

It  is  past  midnight,  and  I  must  close.  Caesar  started  this 
afternoon,  alone,  for  the  ascent  of  Etna.  I  would  have  accom- 
panied him,  but  my  only  chance  of  reaching  Messina  in  time 
for  the  next  steamer  to  Naples  is  the  diligence  which  leaves 
here  to-morrow.  The  mountain  has  been  covered  with  clouds 
for  the  last  two  days,  and  I  have  had  no  view  at  all  compara- 
ble to  that  of  the  morning  of  my  arrival.  To-morrow  the 
trrand  procession  of  the  Body  of  St.  Agatha  takes  place,  but 
J  am  quite  satisfied  with  three  days  of  processions  and  horse 
races,  and  three  nights  of  illuminations. 

I  leave  in  the  morning,  with  a  Sicilian  passport,  mf  own 
availing  me  nothing,  after  landing. 


THE     MOUNTAIN     THREATEN*  375 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE     ERUPTION     OF     MOUNT     ET.NA 

Cae  llfuntaui  Threatens — The  Sif&a  Increase — We  Leave  Catania — Gardens  Amor.j 
the  Luva— Etna  Labors — Aci  Keale— Tlie  Groans  of  Etna — The  Eruption — OrigffrJIc 
Tree  of  Smoke — Formation  of  the  New  Crater— We  Lose  Sight  of  the  Mountain — Arrival 
at  Messina — Etna  is  Obscured — Departure. 


'  the  shattered  side 


Of  thundering  JStna,  whose  combustible 

And  fuel'd  entrails  thence  conceiving  fire, 

Sublimed  with  mineral  fury,  aid  the  winds, 

And  leave  a  singed  bottom."  MII.TOM. 

MSSSINA,  Sicily,  Jftmday,  August  28, 1882. 

THE  noises  of  the  festival  had  not  ceased  when  I  closed  mj 
letter  at  midnight,  on  Friday  last.  I  slept  soundly  through 
the  night,  but  was  awakened  before  sunrise  by  uiy  Sicilian  land- 
lord. "  O,  Excellenza  !  have  you  heard  the  Mountain  ?  He  is 
going  to  break  out  again  ;  may  the  holy  Santa  Agatha  protect 
us  1"  It  is  rather  ill-timed  on  the  part  of  the  Mountain,  was 
my  in\oluntary  first  thought,  that  he  should  choose  for  a  new 
eruption  precisely  the  centennial  festival  of  the  only  Saint  who 
is  supposed  to  have  any  power  over  him.  It  shows  a  disregard 
of  female  influence  not  at  all  suited  to  the  present  day,  and  I 
scarcely  believe  that  he  seriously  means  it.  Next  came  along 
the  jabbering  landlady  :  "  I  don't  like  his  looks.  It  was  just 
so  the  last  time.  Come,  Excellenza,  you  can  see  him  from  the 


THK    LANDS    OF    THE     SARACBN. 

back  terrace."  The  sun  was  not  yet  risen,  but  the  east  was 
bright  with  his  coming,  and  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky 
All  the  features  of  Etna  were  sharply  sculptured  in  the  clear 
air.  From  the  topmost  cone,  a  thick  stream  ol  white  smoke 
was  slowly  puffed  out  at  short  intervals,  and  rolled  lazily  down 
the  eastern  side.  It  had  a  heavy,  languid  character,  and  . 
should  have  thought  nothing  of  the  appearance  but  for  th. 
alarm  of  my  hosts.  It  was  like  the  slow  fire  of  EarthV 
incense,  burning  on  that  grand  mouatain  altar. 

I  hurried  off  to  the  Post  Office,  to  await  the  arrival  of  the 
diligence  from  Palermo.  The  office  is  in  the  Strada  Etnea, 
the  main  street  of  Catania,  which  runs  straight  through  the 
city,  from  the  sea  to  the  base  of  the  mountain,  whose  peat 
closes  the  long  vista.  The  diligence  was  an  hour  later  than 
usual,  and  I  passed  the  time  in  watching  the  smoke  which  con- 
tinued to  increase  in  volume,  and  was  mingled,  from  time  to 
time,  with  jets  of  inky  blackness.  The  postilion  said  he  had 
seen  fires  and  heard  loud  noises  during  the  night.  According 
to  his  account,  the  disturbances  commenced  about  midnight. 
I  could  not  but  envy  my  friend  Csesar,  who  was  probably  at 
that  moment  on  the  summit,  looking  down  into  the  seething 
fires  of  the  crater. 

At  last,  we  rolled  out  of  Catania.  There  were  in  the  dili- 
gence, besides  myself,  two  men  and  a  woman,  Sicilians  of  the 
secondary  class.  The  road  followed  the  shore,  over  rugged 
tracts  of  lava,  the  different  epochs  of  which  could  be  distinctly 
traced  in  the  character  of  the  vegetation.  The  last  great  flow 
(of  1679)  stood  piled  in  long  rWges  of  terrible  sterility,  barely 
allowing  the  aloe  and  cactus  to  take  root  in  the  hollows  between 
The  older  deposits  were  sufficiently  decomposed  to  nourish 


THE    MOUNTAIN      LABORS.  871 

the  olive  and  vine  ;  but  even  here,  the  orchards  were  studded 
with  pyramids  of  the  harder  fragments,  which  are  laborious!) 
3ollected  by  the  husbandmen.  In  the  few  favored  spots  which 
have  been  untouched  for  so  many  ages  that  a  tolerable  depth  of 
soil  has  accumulated,  the  vegetation  has  all  the  richness  and 
brilliancy  of  tropical  lands.  The  palm,  orange,  and  pome- 
granate thrive  luxuriantly,  and  the  vines  almost  break  under 
their  heavy  clusters.  The  villages  are  frequent  and  well  built, 
and  the  hills  are  studded,  far  and  near,  with  the  villas  of  rich 
proprietors,  mostly  buildings  of  one  story,  with  verandahs 
extending  their  whole  length.  Looking  up  towards  Etna, 
whose  base  the  road  encircles,  the  views  are  gloriously  rich  and 
beautiful.  On  the  other  hand  is  the  blue  Mediterranean  and 
the  irregular  outline  of  the  shore,  here  and  there  sending  forth 
promontories  of  lava,  cooled  by  the  waves  into  the  most  fan- 
tastic forms. 

We  had  not  proceeded  far  before  a  new  sign  called  ray 
attention  to  the  mountain.  Not  only  was  there  a  perceptible 
jar  or  vibration  in  the  earth,  but  a  dull,  groaning  sound,  like 
the  muttering  of  distant  thunder,  began  to  be  heard.  The 
smoke  increased  in  volume,  and,  as  we  advanced  further  to  the 
eastward,  and  much  nearer  to  the  great  cone,  I  perceived  that 
it  consisted  of  two  jets,  issuing  from  different  mouths.  A 
broad  stream  of  very  dense  white  smoke  still  flowed  over  the 
lip  of  the  topmost  crater  and  down  the  eastern  side.  As  its 
breadth  did  not  vary,  and  the  edges  were  distinctly  defined,  it 
was  no  doubt  the  sulphureous  vapor  rising  from  a  river  of 
molten  lava.  Perhaps  a  thousand  yards  below,  a  much  stronger 
column  of  mingled  black  and  white  smoke  gushed  up,  in  regular 
heats  or  pauts,  from  a  depression  in  the  mountain  side,  between 


878  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

two  small,  extinct  cones.  All  this  part  of  Etna  was  scarred 
with  deep  chasms,  and  in  the  bottoms  of  those  nearest  the 
opening,  I  could  see  the  red  gleam  of  fire.  The  air  was  per- 
fectly still,  and  as  yet  there  was  no  cloud  in  the  sky. 

When  we  stopped  to  change  horses  at  the  town  of  Aci 
Reale,  I  first  felt  the  violence  of  the  tremor  and  the  awful 
sternness  of  the  sound.  The  smoke  by  this  time  seemed  to  be 
gathering  on  the  side  towards  Catania,  and  hung  in  a  dark 
mass  about  half-way  down  the  mountain.  Groups  of  the  vil- 
lagers were  gathered  in  the  streets  which  looked  upwards  tc 
Etna,  and  discussing  the  chances  of  an  eruption.  "  Ah,"  said 
an  old  peasant,  "  the  Mountain  knows  how  to  make  himself 
respected.  When  he  talks,  everybody  listens."  The  sound 
was  the  most  awful  that  ever  met  my  ears.  It  was  a  hard, 
painful  moan,  now  and  then  fluttering  like  a  suppressed  sob, 
and  had,  at  the  same  time,  an  expression  of  threatening  and  of 
agony.  It  did  not  come  from  Etna  alone.  It  had  no  fixed 
location  ;  it  pervaded  all  space.  It  was  in  the  air,  in  the 
depths  of  the  sea,  in  the  earth  under  my  feet — everywhere,  in 
fact ;  and  as  it  continued  to  increase  in  violence,  I  experienced 
a  sensation  of  positive  pain.  The  people  looked  anxious  and 
alarmed,  although  they  said  it  was  a  good  thing  for  all  Sicily  ; 
that  last  year  they  had  been  in  constant  fear  from  earthquakes, 
and  that  an  eruption  invariably  left  the  island  quiet  for  several 
fears.  It  is  true  that,  during  the  past  year,  parts  of  Sicily 
and  Calabria  have  been  visited  with  severe  shocks,  occasioning 
much  damage  to  property.  A  merchant  of  this  city  informed 
me  yesterday  that  his  whole  family  had  slept  for  two  months 
ID  the  vaults  of  his  warehouse,  fearing  that  the/r  residence 
might  oe  shaken  down  in  the  night. 


THE     ERUPTION.  37$ 

As  wt  rode  along  from  Aci  Reale  to  TaDrraina,  all  the  rat- 
tling of  the  diligence  over  the  rough  road  could  not  drown 
the  awful  noise.     There  was  a  strong  smell  of  sulphur  in  the 
air,  and  the  thick  pants  of  smoke  from  the  lower  crater   ;on 
tinued  to  increase  in  strength.     The  sun  was  fierce  and  hot, 
and  the  edges  of  the  sulphureous  clouds  shone  with  a  dazzling 
whiteness.     A  mounted  soldier  overtook  us,  and  rode  beside 
the  diligence,  talking  with  the  postillion.     He  had  been  up  to 
the  mountain,  and  was  taking  his  report  to  the  Governor  oi 
the  district.     The  heat  of  the  day  and  the  continued  tremoi 
of  the  air  lulled  me  into  a  sort  of  doze,  when  I  was  suddenly 
aroused  by  a  cry  from  the  soldier  and  the  stopping  of  the  dili- 
gence.    At  the  same  time,  there  was  a  terrific  peal  of  sound, 
followed  by  a  jar  which  must  have  shaken  the  whole  island. 
We  looked  up  to   Etna,  which  was  fortunately  in  full  view 
before  us.     An  immense  mass  of  snow-white  smoke  had  burst 
up  from  the  crater  and  was  rising  perpendicularly  into  the  air, 
its  rounded  volumes  rapidly  whirling  one  over  the  other,  yet 
urged  with  such  impetus  that  they  only  rolled  outwards  after 
they  had  ascended  to  an  immense  height.     It  might  have  beec 
one  minute  or  five — for  I  was  so  entranced  by  this  wonderful 
spectacle  that  I  lost  the  sense  of  time — but  it  seemed  instant 
aneous  (so  rapid  and  violent  were  the  effects  of  the  expksicn) 
when  there  stood  in  the  air,  based  on  the  summit  of  the  moun- 
tain, a  mass  of  smoke  four  or  five  miles  high,  and  shaped  prr, 
cisely  like  the  Italian  pine  tree. 

Words  cannot  paint  the  grandeur  of  this  mighty  tree.  It? 
trunk  of  columned  smoke,  one  side  of  which  was  silvered  by  the 
sun.  while  the  other,  in  shadow,  was  lurid  with  red  flame,  rose 
for  more  than  a  mile  before  it  sent  out  its  clcudy  boughs.  Then 


380  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

parting  into  a  thousand  streams,  each  of  which  again  thre\\ 
out  its  branching  tufts  of  smoke,  rolling  and  waving  in  the  ^i. 
it  stood  in  intense  relief  against  the  dark  blue  of  the  sky.  Its 
rounded  masses  of  foliage  were  dazzliugly  white  on  one  side, 
while,  in  the  shadowy  depths  of  the  branches,  there  was  a  con- 
stant play  of  brown,  yellow,  and  crimson  tints,  revealing  the 
Central  shaft  of  fire.  It  was  like  the  tree  celebrated  in  the 
Scandinavian  sagas,  as  seen  by  the  mother  of  Harold  Har- 
drada — that  tree,  whose  roots  pierced  through  the  earth,  whose 
trunk  was  of  the  color  of  blood,  and  whose  branches  filled  the 
uttermost  corners  of  the  heavens. 

This  outburst  seemed  to  have  relieved  the  mountain,  for  the 
tremors  were  now  less  violent,  though  the  terrible  noise  still 
droned  in  the  air,  and  earth,  and  sea.  And  now,  from  the 
base  of  the  tree,  three  white  streams  slowly  crept  into  as  map.v 
separate  chasms,  against  the  walls  of  which  played  the  flicker- 
ing glow  of  the  burning  lava.  The  column  of  smoke  and  flame 
was  still  hurled  upwards,  and  the  tree,  after  standing  about 
ten  minutes — a  new  and  awful  revelation  of  the  active  forces 
of  Nature — gradually  rose  and  spread,  lost  its  form-,  and, 
slowly  moved  by  a  light  wind  (the  first  that  disturbed  the  dead 
calm  of  the  day),  bent  over  to  the  eastward.  We  resumed 
our  course.  The  vast  belt  of  smoke  at  last  arched  over  the 
strait,  here  about  twenty  miles  wide,  and  sank  towards  the 
distant  Calabrian  shore.  As  we  drove  uuder  it,  for  some  milet 
of  our  way  the  sun  was  totally  obscured,  and  the  sky  pre 
Bented  the  singular  spectacle  of  two  hemispheres  of  clear  blue, 
with  a  broad  belt  of  darkness  drawn  between  them.  There 
was  a  hot,  sulphureous  vapor  in  the  air,  and  showers  of  white 
ashes  fell,  from  time  to  time.  We  were  distant  about  twelve 


WE    LOSE    SIGHT    OF    ETNA.  88 J 

miles,  in  a  straight  line,  from  the  crater  ;  bat  the  air  was  st 
clear,  even  under  the  shadow  of  the  smoke,  that  I  could  dis 
tinctly  trace  the  downward  movement  of  the  rivers  of  lava. 

This  was  the  eruption,  at  lust,  to  which  all  the  phenomei.a 
of  the  morning  had  been  only  preparatory.  For  the  first  time 
in  ten  years  the  depths  of  Etna  had  been  stirred,  and  I  thanked 
God  for  my  detention  at  Malta,  and  the  singular  hazard  of 
travel  which  had  brought  me  here,  to  his  very  base,  to  witness 
a  scene,  the  impression  of  which  I  shall  never  lose,  to  my  dying 
day.  Although  the  eruption  may  continue  and  the  mountain 
pour  forth  fiercer  fires  and  broader  tides  of  lava,  I  cannot  but 
think  that  the  first  upheaval,  which  lets  out  the  long-imprisoned 
forces,  will  not  be  equalled  in  grandeur  by  any  later  spectacle. 

After  passing  Taormina,  our  road  led  us  under  the  hills  ol 
the  coast,  and  although  I  occasionally  caught  glimpses  of  Etna, 
and  saw  the  reflection  of  fires  from  the  lava  which  was  filling 
up  his  savage  ravines,  the  smoke  at  last  encircled  nis  waist, 
and  ne  was  then  shut  out  of  sight  by  the  intervening  moun- 
tains. We  lost  a  bolt  in  a  deep  valley  opening  on  the  sea,  and 
during  our  stoppage  I  could  still  hear  the  groans  of  the  Moun- 
tain, though  farther  off  and  less  painful  to  the  ear.  Aa 
evening  came  on,  the  beautiful  hills  of  Calabria,  with  white 
towns  and  villages  on  their  sides,  gleamed  in  the  purple  light 
of  the  setting  sun.  We  drove  around  headland  after  headland, 
till  the  strait  opened,  and  we  looked  over  the  harbor  of  Messina 
to  Capo  Faro,  and  the  distant  islands  of  the  Tyrrhene  Sea. 


I  leave  this  afternoon  for  Naples  and  Leghorn.     I  have  lost 
already  so  much  time  between  Constantinople  and  this  place 


d82  THE     IANDS     OF    THE     SARACEN. 

that  I  cannot  give  up  ten  days  more  to  Etna.  Besides,  I  an 
so  thoroughly  satisfied  with  what  I  have  seen,  that  I  fear  uc 
second  view  of  the  eruption  could  equal  it.  Etna  cannot  be 
seen  from  here,  nor  from  a  nearer  point  than  a  mountain  six  or 
eight  miles  distant.  I  tried  last  evening  to  get  a  horse  and 
ride  out  to  it,  in  order  to  see  the  appearance  of  the  eruption 
by  night  ;  but  every  horse,  mule  and  donkey  in  the  place  was 
engaged,  except  a  miserable  lame  mule,  for  which  five  dollars 
was  demanded.  Howerer,  the  night  happened  to  be  cloudy 
so  that  I  could  have  seen  nothing. 

My  passport  is  finally  en  regie.  It  has  cost  the  labors  oi 
myself  and  an  able-bodied  valet-de-place  since  yesterday  morning, 
and  the  expenditure  of  five  dollars  and  a  half,  to  accomplish 
this  great  work.  I  have  just  been  righteously  abusing  the 
Neapolitan  Government  to  a  native  merchant  whom,  from  hu 
name,  I  took  to  be  a  Frenchman,  but  as  I  am  off  in  an  hour  01 
two,  hope  to  escape  arrest.  Perdition  to  all  Tyranny  ! 


LINKS    OF    TRAVEL.  383 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

GIBRALTAR. 

CnwritUu  Links  of  T  avel — Departure  from  Southampton — The  Bay  of  Biscay — Cintra 
—Trafalgar — Gibra  tar  at  Midnight — Landing — Search  fora  Palm-Tree — A  Brilliant 
Morning— The  Convexity  of  the  Enrth— Sun -Worship — The  Rock. 


'to  the  north- west,  Cape  St.  Vincent  died  away, 


Sunset  ran,  a  burning  blood-red,  blushing  into  Cadiz  Bay. 

In  the  dimmest  north-east  distance  dawned  Gibraltar,  grand  and  gray.*' 

BBOWHIIO. 

GIBRALTAR,  Saturday,  November  8, 1362. 

1  LEAVE  unrecorded  the  links  of  travel  which  connected  Mes- 
sina and  Gibraltar.  They  were  over  the  well-trodden  fields  of 
Europe,  where  little  ground  is  left  that  is  not  familiar.  In 
leaving  Sicily  I  lost  the  Saracenic  trail,  which  I  had  been  fol- 
lowing through  the  East,  and  first  find  it  again  here,  on  the 
rock  of  Calpe,  whose  name,  Djebel  d-Tarik  (the  Mountain  of 
Tank),  still  speaks  of  the  fiery  race  whose  rule  extended  from 
the  unknown  ocean  of  the  West  to  "  Gauges  and  Hydaspcs. 
Indian  streams."  In  Malta  and  Sicily,  I  saw  their  decaying 
watch-towers,  and  recognized  their  sign-manual  in  the  deep, 
guttural,  masculine  words  and  expressions  which  they  have 
left  behind  them.  1  now  design  following  their  footsteps 
through  the  beautiful  Bdad-el-Andaluz,  which,  to  the  eye  of 


384  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

the  Melek  Abd-er-rahman,  was  only  less  lovely  than  the  plains 
of  Damascus. 

While  in  Constantinople,  I  received  letters  which  opened  to 
me  wider  and  richer  fields  of  travel  than  I  had  already  tra- 
versed. I  saw  a  possibility  of  exploring  the  far  Indian  realms, 
the  shores  of  farthest  Cathay  and  the  famed  Zipaugo  of  Marco 
Polo.  Before  entering  on  this  new  sphere  of  experiences,  how- 
ever, it  was  necessary  for  me  to  visit  Italy,  Germany,  and 
England.  I  sailed  from  Messina  to  Leghorn,  and  travelled 
thence,  by  way  of  Florence,  Venice,  and  the  Tyrol,  to  Munich 
After  three  happy  weeks  at  Gotha,  and  among  the  valleys  of 
the  Thiiringian  Forest,  I  went  to  London,  where  business  and 
the  preparation  for  my  new  journeys  detained  me  two  or  three 
weeks  longer.  Although  the  comforts  of  European  civilization 
were  pleasant,  as  a  change,  after  the  wild  life  of  the  Orient,  the 
autumnal  rains  of  England  soon  made  me  homesick  for  the 
sunshine  I  had  left.  The  weather  was  cold,  dark,  and  dreary, 
and  the  oppressive,  sticky  atmosphere  of  the  bituminous  metro- 
polis weighed  upon  me  like  a  nightmare.  Heartily  tired  of 
looking  at  a  sun  that  could  show  nothing  brighter  than  a  red 
copper  disk,  and  of  breathing  an  air  that  peppered  my  face 
with  particles  of  soot,  I  left  on  the  28th  of  October.  It  was 
one  of  the  dismalest  days  of  autumn  ;  the  meadows  of  Berk- 
shire were  flooded  with  broad,  muddy  streams,  and  the  woods 
on  the  hills  of  Hampshire  looked  brown  and  sodden,  as  if 
slowly  rotting  away.  I  reached  Southampton  at  dusk,  bat 
there  the  sky  was  neither  warmer  nor  clearer,  so  I  spent  the 
evening  over  a  coal  fire,  all  impatience  for  the  bright  beloved 
South,  towards  which  my  face  was  turned  once  more. 

The  Madras  left  on  the  next  day,  at  2  P.M  ,  in  the  midst  at 


THE     BAY     OF    BISCAY.  386 

a  cheerless  rain,  which  half  blotted  out  the  pleasant  shores  of 
Southampton  Water,  and  the  Isle  of  Wight.  The  Madrat 
was  a  singularly  appropriate  vessel  for  one  bound  on  such  a 
journey  as  mine.  The  surgeon  was  Dr.  Mungo  Park,  and  one 
of  my  room-mates  was  Mr.  R.  Crusoe.  It  was  a  Friday, 
which  boded  no  good  for  the  voyage  ;  but  then  my  journey  com- 
menced with  my  leaving  London  the  day  previous,  and  Thurs- 
day is  a  lucky  day  among  the  Arabs.  I  caught  a  watery  view 
of  the  gray  cliffs  of  the  Needles,  when  dinner  was  announced, 
but  many  were  those  (and  I  among  them)  who  commenced 
that  meal,  and  did  not  stay  to  finish  it. 

Is  there  any  piece  of  water  more  unreasonably,  distressingly, 
disgustingly  rough  and  perverse  than  the  British  Channel  ? 
YTes :  there  is  one,  and  but  one — the  Bay  of  Biscay.  And  as 
the  latter  succeeds  the  former,  without  a  pause  between,  and 
the  head-winds  never  ceased,  and  the  rain  continually  poured, 
I  leave  you  to  draw  the  climax  of  my  misery.  Four  days  and 
four  nights  in  a  berth,  lying  on  your  back,  now  do/ing  dull 
hour  after  hour,  now  making  faint  endeavors  to  eat,  or  reading 
the  feeblest  novel  ever  written,  because  the  mind  cannot  digest 
stronger  aliment — can  there  be  a  greater  contrast  to  the  wide- 
awake life,  the  fiery  inspiration,  of  the  Orient?  My  blood 
oecame  so  sluggish  and  my  mind  so  cloudy  and  befogged,  that 
I  despaired  of  ever  thinking  clearly  or  feeling  vividly  again. 
"The  winds  are  rude"  in  Biscay,  Byron  says.  They  are, 
indeed  :  very  rude.  They  must  have  been  raised  in  some  most 
disorderly  quarter  of  the  globe.  They  pitched  the  waves  right 
over  oar  bulwarks,  and  now  and  then  dashed  a  bucketful  of 
water  down  the  cabin  skylight,  swamping  the  ladies'  cabin,  and 
letting  scores  of  bandboxes  afloat.  Not  that  there  was  th« 


886  THE    LANDS    OF    THE     SARACEN. 

least  actual  danger  ;  but  Mrs. would  not  be  persuaded 

that  we  were  not  on  the  brink  of  destruction,  and  wrote  to 
friends  at  home  a  voluminous  account  of  her  feelings.  There 
was  an  Irishman  on  board,  bound  to  Italy,  with  his  sister.  It 
was  his  first  tour,  and  when  asked  why  he  did  not  go  direct, 
through  France,  he  replied,  with  brotherly  concern,  that  he 
was  anxious  his  sister  should  see  the  Bay  of  Biscay. 

This  youth's  perceptions  were  of  such  an  emerald  hue,  that 
a  lot  of  wicked  Englishmen  had  their  own  fun  out  of  him. 
The  other  day,  he  was  trying  to  shave,  to  the  great  danger  of 
slicing  off  his  nose,  as  the  vessel  was  rolling  fearfully.  "Why 
don't  you  have  the  ship  headed  to  the  wind  ?"  said  one  of  the 
Englishmen,  who  heard  his  complaints  ;  "  she  will  then  lie 
steady,  and  you  can  shave  beautifully."  Thereupon  the  Irish 
man  sent  one  of  the  stewards  upon  deck  with  a  polite  message 
to  the  captain,  begging  him  to  put  the  vessel  about  for  five 
minutes. 

Towards  noon  of  the  fifth  day,  we  saw  the  dark,  rugged 
mountains  that  guard  the  north-western  corner  of  the  Spanish 
Peninsula.  We  passed  the  Bay  of  Corunna,  and  rourding  the 
bold  headland  of  Finisterre,  left  the  Biscayan  billov  s  behind 
us.  But  the  sea  was  still  rough  and  the  sky  clouded,  although 
the  next  morning  the  mildness  of  the  air  showed  the  change  iu 
out  latitude.  About  noon  that  day,  we  made  the  Burliugs,  a 
cluster  of  rocks  forty  miles  north  of  Lisbon,  and  just  before 
sunset,  a  transient  lifting  of  the  clouds  revealed  the  Rock  of 
Cintra,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tagus,  The  tall,  perpendicular 
cliffs,  and  the  mountain  slopes  behind,  covered  with  g»rdeua, 
orchards,  and  scattered  villas  and  hamlets,  made  a  gram' 
though  dim  picture,  which  was  soon  hidden  from  our  view. 


LANDING    AT    GIBRALTAR.  387 

On  the  4th,  we  were  nearly  all  day  crossing  the  mouth  of 
{he  Bay  of  Cadiz,  and  only  at  sunset  saw  Cape  Trafalgar  afai 
off,  glimmering  through  the  reddish  haze.  J  remained  on  deck, 
as  there  were  patches  of  starlight  in  the  sky.  After  passing 
the  light-house  at  Tarifa,  the  Spanish  shore  continued  to  bf 
visible.  In  another  hour,  there  was  a  dun,  cloudy  outline  high 
above  the  horizon,  on  our  right.  This  was  the  Lesser  Atlas, 
in  Morocco.  And  now,  right  ahead,  distinctly  visible,  though 
fifteen  miles  distant,  lay  a  colossal  'lion,  with  his  head  on  his 
outstretched  paws,  looking  towards  Africa.  If  I  bad  been 
brought  to  the  spot  blindfolded,  I  should  have  known  what  it 
was.  The  resemblance  is  certainly  very  striking,  and  the  light- 
house on  Europa  Point  seemed  to  be  a  lamp  held  in  his  paws. 
The  lights  of  the  city  and  fortifications  rose  one  by  one,  glit- 
tering along  the  base,  and  at  midnight  we  dropped  anchor 
before  them  on  the  western  side. 

I  landed  yesterday  morning.  The  mists,  which  had  followed 
me  from  England,  had  collected  behind  the  Rock,  and  the  sun, 
still  hidden  by  its  huge  bulk,  shone  upwards  through  them, 
making  a  luminous  background,  against  which  the  lofty  walla 
and  jagged  ramparts  of  this  tremendous  natural  fortification 
were  clearly  defined.  I  announced  my  name,  and  the  length 
of  time  I  designed  remaining,  at  a  little  office  on  the  quay,  and 
was  then  allowed  to  pass  into  the  city.  A  number  of  familiar 
white  turbans  met  me  on  entering,  and  I  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  of  cordially  saluting  the  owners  in  their  own  lan- 
guage. The  town  is  long  and  narrow,  lying  steeply  against 
the  Rock.  The  houses  are  white,  yellow  and  pink,  as  iu 
Spanish  towns,  but  the  streets  are  clean  and  well  paved 
There  is  a  square,  about  the  size  of  an  jrdinary  hoildiug-lot 


S88  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

where  a  sort  of  market  of  dry  goods  and  small  articles  is  held 
The  "  Clnb-House  Hotel "  occupies  one  side  of  it ;  and,  as  1 
look  out  of  my  window  upon  it,  I  see  the  topmost  cliffs  of  the 
Rock  above  me,  threatening  to  topple  down  from  a  height  of 
1 ,500  feet 

My  first  walk  in  Gibraltar  was  in  search  of  a  palm-tree 
Alter  threading  the  whole  length  of  the  town,  I  found  two 
small  ones  in  a  garden,  in  the  bottom  of  the  old  moat.  The 
sun  was  shining,  and  his  rays  seemed  to  fall  with  double 
warmth  on  their  feathery  crests.  Three  brown  Spaniards 
bare-armed,  were  drawing  water  with  a  pole  and  bucket,  and 
filling  the  little  channels  which  conveyed  it  to  the  distant  vege- 
tables. The  sea  glittered  blue  below ;  an  Indian  fig-tree 
shaded  me ;  but,  on  the  rock  behind,  an  aloe  lifted  its  blossom- 
ing stem,  some  twenty  feet  high,  into  the  sunshine.  To 
describe  what  a  weight  was  lifted  from  my  heart  would  seem 
foolish  to  those  who  do  not  know  on  what  little  things  the 
whole  tone  of  our  spirits  sometimes  depends. 

But  if  an  even  balance  was  restored  yesterday,  the  opposite 
scale  kicked  the  beam  this  morning.  Not  a  speck  of  vapor 
blurred  the  spotless  crystal  of  the  sky,  as  I  walked  along  the 
hanging  paths  of  the  Alameda.  The  sea  was  dazzling  ultra- 
marine, with  a  purple  lustre  ;  every  crag  and  notch  of  the 
mountains  across  the  bay,  every  shade  of  brown  or  gray,  or 
the  green  of  grassy  patches,  was  drawn  and  tinted  with  a 
pencil  so  exquisitely  delicate  as  almost  to  destroy  the  perspect- 
ive. The  white  houses  of  Algeciras,  five  miles  off,  appeared 
dose  at  hand  :  a  little  toy-town,  backed  by  miniature  hills 
A.pes  Hill,  the  ancient  Abyla,  in  Africa,  advanced  to  meeJ 
Calpe,  its  opposing  pillar,  and  Atlas  swept  away  to  the  eaa* 


THE     COKVEZITY    OF     THE     EABTH.  88i 

ward,  its  blae  becoming  paler  and  paler,  till  the  powers  of 
riaion  filially  failed.  From  the  top  of  the  southern  point  of 
the  Rock,  I  saw  the  mountain-shore  of  Spain,  as  far  as  Malaga, 
and  the  snowy  top  of  one  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  Looking 
eastward  to  the  horizon  line  of  the  Mediterranean,  my  sight 
extended  so  far,  in  the  wonderful  clearness  of  the  air,  that  the 
convexity  of  the  earth's  surface  was  plainly  to  be  seen.  The 
sea,  instead  of  being  a  plane,  was  slightly  convex,  and  the  sky 
instead  of  resting  upon  it  at  the  horizon,  curved  down  beyond 
it,  as  the  upper  side  of  a  horn  curves  over  the  lower,  when  one 
looks  into  the  month.  There  is  none  of  the  many  aspects  of 
Nature  more  grand  than  this,  which  is  so  rarely  seen,  that  I 
believe  the  only  person  who  has  ever  described  it  is  Humboldt, 
who  saw  it,  looking  from  the  Silla  de  Caraccas  over  the  Carib- 
bean Sea.  It  gives  you  the  impression  of  standing  on  the  edge 
of  the  earth,  and  looking  off  into  space.  From  the  mast-head, 
the  ocean  appears  either  flat  or  slightly  concave,  and  aeronauts 
declare  that  this  apparent  concavity  becomes  more  marked,  the 
higher  they  ascend.  It  is  only  at  those  rare  periods  when  the 
air  is  so  miraculously  clear  as  to  produce  the  effect  of  no  air — 
rendering  impossible  the  slightest  optical  illusion — that  our 
eyes  can  see  things  as  they  really  are.  So  pure  was  the  atmo- 
sphere to-day,  that,  at  meridian,  the  moon,  although  a  thin 
sickle,  three  days  distant  from  the  sun,  shone  perfectly  white 
«nd  clear. 

As  I  loitered  in  the  Alameda,  between  thick  hedges  of  ever 
blooming  geraniums,  clumps  of  heliotrope  three  feet  high,  and 
luxuriant  masses  of  ivy,  around  whose  warm  flowers  the  beei 
clustered  and  hummed,  I  could  only  think  of  the  voyage  at)  a 
hideous  dream.  The  fog  and  gloom  had  been  in  my  own  eyet 


390  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

and  iii  my  own  brain,  and  naw  the  blessed  sun,  shining  full  u 
my  face,  awoke  me.  I  am  a  worshipper  of  the  Sun.  I  took 
off  my  hat  to  him,  as  I  stood  there,  in  a  wilderness  of  white, 
crimson,  and  purple  flowers,  and  let  him  blaze  away  in  my  face 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Aud  as  I  walked  home  with  my 
back  to  him,  I  often  turned  my  face  from  side  to  side  that  I 
might  feel  his  touch  on  my  cheek.  How  a  man  can  live,  who 
is  sentenced  to  a  year's  imprisonment,  is  more  than  I  can 
understand. 

But  all  this  (you  will  say)  gives  you  no  picture  of  Gibral 
tar.  The  Rock  is  so  familiar  to  all  the  world,  in  prints  and 
descriptions,  that  I  fin  I  nothing  new  to  say  of  it,  except  that 
it  is  by  no  means  so  barren  a  rock  as  the  island  of  Malta, 
being  clothed,  in  many  places,  with  beautiful  groves  and  the 
greenest  turf ;  besides,  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  rock-galleries, 
having  taken  passage  for  Cadiz  this  afternoon.  When  I 
return — as  I  hope  to  do  in  twenty  days,  after  visiting  SevilU 
and  Granada — I  shall  procure  permission  to  view  all  the  forti 
fixations,  and  likewise  to  ascend  to  the  summit 


VOYAGE     TO     CADIZ.  39 1 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

CADIZ      AND      SEVILLE. 


to  Cadli—  Landing—  The  City—  Its  Streets—  The  Women  o    Cadis—  Umbafka 
MOD  for  Seville  —  Scenery  of  the  Guadalquivir  —  Custom  Houso    Examination  —  Thi 
Guide—  The  Streets  of  Seville—  The  Giralda—  The  Cathedral  of  Seville—  The  Alcasar- 
Monrish  Architecture—  Pilate's  House—  Morning  View  from  the  Giralda—  Old  Wine 
Murillos—  My  Last  Evening  in  Seville. 

"  The  walls  of  Cadii  front  the  shore, 

Andshter.icr  o'er  the  sea."  R.  H.  STODDHD. 

"  Beautiful  Seville  ! 

Of  which  I've  dreamed,  until  I  saw  Its  towers 
In  every  cloud  that  hid  the  setting  sun."  GKOBQK  H.  BOKIR. 

SKVILU,  November  10,  1852. 

I  LEFT  Gibraltar  on  the  evening  of  the  6th,  in  the  steamei 
Iberia.  The  passage  to  Cadiz  was  made  in  nine  hours,  and  we 
came  to  anchor  in  the  harbor  before  day-break.  It  was  a  cheer 
ful  picture  that  the  rising  sun  presented  to  us.  The  long  white 
front  of  the  city,  facing  the  East,  glowed  with  a  bright  rosy 
lustre,  on  a  ground  of  the  clearest  blue.  The  tongue  of  land 
on  which  Cadiz  stands  is  low,  but  the  houses  are  lifted  by  the 
heavy  sea-wall  which  encompasses  them.  The  main-laud  con- 
sists of  a  range  of  low  but  graceful  hills,  while  in  the  south- 
east the  mountains  of  Rouda  rise  at  some  distance.  I  went 
immediately  on  shore,  where  my  carpet-  bag  was  seized  upon 


R93  THK  LANDS  OF  THE  81RACEN. 

by  a  boy,  with  the  rich  brown  complexion  of  one  of 
Murillo's  beggars,  who  trudged  off  with  it  to  the  gate 
After  some  little  detention  there,  I  was  conducted  to  a  long, 
deserted,  barn-like  building,  where  I  waited  half  an  hour  before 
the  proper  officer  came.  When  the  latter  had  taken  his  private 
toll  of  my  contraband  cigars,  the  brown  imp  conducted  me  to 
Blanco's  English  Hotel,  a  neat  and  comfortable  house  on  the 
Alameda. 

Cadiz  is  soon  seen.  Notwithstanding  its  venerable  age  of 
three  thousand  years — having  been  founded  by  Hercules,  who 
figures  on  its  coat-of-arms — it  is  purely  a  commercial  city,  and 
has  neither  antiquities,  nor  historic  associations  that  interest 
any  but  Englishmen.  It  is  compactly  built,  and  covers  a 
smaller  space  than  accords  with  my  ideas  of  its  former  splei.- 
dor.  I  first  walked  around  the  sea-ramparts,  enjoying  the 
glorious  look-off  over  the  blue  waters.  The  city  is  almost  in- 
sulated, the  triple  line  of  fortifications  on  the  land  side  being 
of  but  trifling  length.  A  rocky  ledge  stretches  out  into  the 
sea  from  the  northern  point,  and  at  its  extremity  rises  the  mas- 
sive light-house  tower,  170  feet  high.  The  walls  toward  the  sea 
were  covered  with  companies  of  idle  anglers,  fishing  with  cane 
rods  of  enormous  length.  On  the  open,  waste  spaces  between 
the  bastions,  boys  had  spread  their  limed  cords  to  catch  singing 
birds,  with  chirping  decoys  placed  here  and  there  in  wicker 
cages.  Numbers  of  boatmen  and  peasants,  in  their  brown 
jackets,  studded  with  tags  and  bugles,  and  those  round  black 
caps  which  resemble  smashed  bandboxes,  loitered  about  the 
walls  or  lounged  on  the  grass  in  the  sun. 

Except  along  the  Alarm -da,  which  fronts  the  bay,  the  exte- 
rior of  the  city  has  an  aspect  of  neglect  find  d'seition  The 


interior,  however,  atones  for  this  in  the  gay  and  lively  air  of  its 
streets,  *hich,  though  narrow,  arc  regular  and  charmingly 
clean.  The  small  plazas  are  neatness  itself,  and  one  is  too  con- 
tent with  this  to  ask  for  striking  architectural  effects.  The 
houses  are  tall  and  stately,  of  the  most  dazzling  whiteness,  and 
though  you  could  point  out  no  one  as  a  pattern  of  style,  the  gene- 
ra, effect  is  chaste  and  harmonious.  In  fact,  there  are  two  or 
three  streets  which  you  would  almost  pronounce  faultless.  The 
numbers  of  hanging  balconies  and  of  court-yards  paved  with  mar- 
ble and  surrounded  with  elegant  corridors,  show  the  influence  of 
Moorish  taste.  There  is  not  a  mean-looking  house  to  be  seen, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  that  Cadiz  is  the  best  built  city  of  its  size 
in  the  world.  It  lies,  white  as  new-fallen  snow,  like  a  cluster 
of  ivory  palaces,  between  sea  and  sky.  Blue  and  silver  are  its 
colors,  and,  as  everybody  knows,  there  can  be  no  more  charm- 
ing contrast. 

I  visited  both  the  old  and  new  cathedrals,  neither  of  which 
id  particularly  interesting.  The  latter  is  unfinished,  and  might 
have  been  a  fine  edifice  had  the  labor  and  money  expended  on 
its  construction  been  directed  by  taste.  The  interior,  rich  as 
it  is  in  marbles  and  sculpture,  has  a  heavy,  confused  effect. 
The  pillars  dividing  the  nave  from  the  side-aisle'  *re  enormous 
composite  masses,  each  one  consisting  of  six  Corinthian  columns, 
stuck  around  and  against  a  central  shaft.  More  satisfactory 
to  me  was  the  Opera-House,  which  I  visited  in  the  evening, 
and  where  the  dazzling  array  of  dark-eyed  Gaditanas  put  a 
stop  to  architectural  criticism.  The  women  of  Cadiz  are  noted 
for  their  beauty  and  their  graceful  gait.  Some  of  them  are 
very  beautiful,  it  is  true  ;  but  beauty  is  not  the  rule  among 
them.  Their  gait,  however,  is  the  most  graceful  possible 

n* 


39  THS  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

necause  it  is  perfectly  free  and  natural.  The  commonest  serv 
ing-maid  who  walks  the  streets  of  Cadiz  would  put  to  shame  t 
whole  score  of  our  mincing  and  wriggling  belles. 

Honest  old  Blanco  prepared  me  a  cup  of  cho<olate  by  sun- 
rise next  morning,  and  accompanied  me  down  to  the  quay,  to 
embark  for  Seville.  A  furious  wind  was  blowing  from  the 
south-east,  and  the  large  green  waves  raced  and  chased  one 
another  incessantly  over  the  surface  of  the  bay.  I  took  a 
heavy  craft,  which  the  boatmen  pushed  along  under  cover  of 
the  pier,  until  they  reached  the  end,  when  the  sail  was  dropped 
in  the  face  of  the  wind,  and  away  we  shot  into  the  watery 
tumult.  The  boat  rocked  and  bounced  over  the  ogitated  sur- 
face, running  with  one  gunwale  on  the  waves,  and  sheets  of 
briny  spray  broke  over  me.  I  felt  considerably  relieved  when 
I  reached  the  deck  of  the  steamer,  but  it  was  then  diversion 
enough  to  watch  those  who  followed.  The  crowd  of  boats 
pitching  tumultuously  around  the  steamer,  jostling  against  each 
other,  their  hulls  gleaming  with  wet,  as  they  rose  on  the  beryl- 
colored  waves,  striped  with  long,  curded  lines  of  wind-blown 
foam,  would  have  made  a  fine  subject  for  the  pencil  of  Achen- 
bach. 

At  last  we  pushed  off,  with  a  crowd  of  passengers  fore  and 
aft,  and  a  pyramid  of  luggage  piled  around  the  smoke-pipe. 
There  was  a  party  of  four  Englishmen  on  board,  and,  on  mak- 
ing their  acquaintance,  I  found  one  of  them  to  be  a  friend  to 
some  of  ray  friends — Sir  John  Potter,  the  progressive  ex 
Mayor  of  Manchester.  The  wind  being  astern,  we  ran  rapidly 
along  the  coast,  and  in  two  hours  entered  the  mouth  of  the 
Guadalquivir.  [This  name  comes  from  the  Arabic  wad\ 
tLkebeer — literally,  the  Great  Val'«y.]  The  shores  are  a  dead 


8CEXERY     0>     THK     GUADALQUIVIR.  395 

ilat  The  right  bank  is  a  dreary  forest  of  stunted  pines,  abound 
ing  with  deer  and  other  game  ;  on  the  left  is  the  dilapidated 
town  of  San  Lucar,  whence  Magellan  set  sail  on  his  first  voy- 
age around  the  world.  A,  mile  further  is  Bonanza,  the  port 
of  Xeres,  where  we  touched  and  took  on  board  a  fresh  lot  of 
passengers.  Thenceforth,  for  four  hours,  the  scenery  of  the- 
Guadalquivir  had  a  most  distressing  sameness.  The  banks 
were  as  flat  as  a  board,  with  here  and  there  a  straggling 
growth  of  marshy  thickets.  Now  and  then  we  passed  a  herds- 
man's hut,  but  there  were  no  human  beings  to  be  seen,  except 
the  peasants  who  tended  the  large  flocks  of  sheep  and  cattle. 
A  sort  of  breakfast  was  served  in  the  cabin,  but  so  great  was 
the  number  of  guests  that  I  had  much  difficulty  in  getting 
anything  to  eat.  The  waiters  were  models  of  calmness  and 
deliberation. 

As  we  approached  Seville,  some  low  hills  appeared  on  the 
left,  near  the  river.  Dazzling  white  villages  were  planted  at 
their  foot,  and  all  the  slopes  were  covered  with  olive  orchards, 
while  the  banks  of  the  stream  were  bordered  with  silvery  birch 
trees.  This  gave  the  landscape,  in  spite  of  the  African 
warmth  and  brightness  of  the  day,  a  gray  and  almost  wintry 
aspect.  Soon  the  graceful  Giralda,  or  famous  Tower  of 
Seville,  arose  in  the  distance  ;  but,  from  the  windings  of  the 
river,  we  were  half  an  hour  in  reaching  the  landing-place. 
One  sees  nothing  of  the  far-famed  beauty  of  Seville,  ou 
approaching  it.  The  boat  stops  below  the  Alameda,  where 
the  passengers  are  received  by  Custom-House  officers,  who,  in 
my  case,  did  not  verify  the  stories  told  of  them  in  Cadiz.  I 
gave  my  carpet-bag  to  a  boy,  who  conducted  me  along  the  hot 
and  dusty  banks  to  the  bridge  over  the  Guadalquivir,  where 


396  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

be  turned  into  the  cily.  On  passing  the  gate,  two  loafer  lik« 
guards  stopped  my  baggage,  notwithstanding  it  had  already 
been  examined.  "  What  I"  said  I,  "  do  you  examine  twice  oc 
entering  Seville  ?"  "  Yes,"  answered  one  ;  "  twice,  and  even 
three  times  ;"  but  added  in  a  lower  tone,  "  it  depends  entirely 
on  yourself"  With  that  he  slipped  behind  me,  and  let  one 
hand  fall  beside  my  pocket.  The  transfer  of  a  small  coin  was 
dexterously  made,  and  I  passed  on  without  further  stoppage 
to  the  Fonda  de  Madrid. 

Sir  John  Potter  engaged  Antonio  Bailli,  the  noted  guide  of 
Seville,  who  professes  to  have  been  the  cicerone  of  all  distin 
guished  travellers,  from  Lord  Byron  and  Washington  Irving 
dowu  to  Owen  Jones,  and  I  readily  accepted  his  invitation  to 
join  the  party.  Bailli  is  recommended  by  Ford  as  "  fat  and 
good-humored  "  Fat  he  certainly  is,  and  very  good-humored 
when  speaking  of  himself,  but  he  has  been  rather  spoiled 
by  popularity,  and  is  much  too  profuse  in  his  critical  remarks 
on  art  and  architecture.  Nevertheless,  as  my  stay  in  Seville 
is  limited,  I  have  derived  no  slight  advantage  from  his  ser- 
vices. 

On  the  first  morning  I  took  an  early  stroll  through  the 
streets.  The  houses  are  glaringly  white,  like  those  of  Cadi/ 
but  are  smaller  and  have  not  the  same  stately  exteriors.  The 
windows  are  protected  by  iron  gratings,  of  florid  patterns, 
and,  as  many  of  these  are  painted  green,  the  general  effect  is 
pleasing.  Almost  every  door  opens  upon  a  patio,  or  court- 
yard, paved  with  black  and  white  marble^  and  adorned  with 
flowers  and  fountains.  Many  of  these  remain  from  the  time  of 
the  Moors,  and  are  still  surrounded  by  the  delicate  arches  and 
brilliant  tile-work  of  that  period.  The  populace  in  the  streeta 


THE     GIRALDA.  391 

are  entirely  Spanish—  the  jaunty  majo  in  his  queer  black  cap 
gash,  and  embroidered  jacket,  and  the  nut-brown,  dark-eyed 
damsel,  swimming  along  in  her  mantilla,  and  armed  with  the 
irresistible  fan. 

We  went  first  to  the  Cathedral,  built  on  the  site  of  the 
great  mosque  of  Abou  Youssuf  Yakoub.  The  tall  Giralda 
beckoned  to  us  over  the  tops  of  the  intervening  buildings,  and 
finally  a  turn  in  the  street  brought  us  to  the  ancient  Moorish 
gateway  on  the  northern  side.  This  is  an  admirable  specimen  of 
the  horse-shoe  arch,  and  is  covered  with  elaborate  tracery.  It 
originally  opened  into  the  court,  or  huram,  of  the  mosque, 
which  still  remains,  and  is  shaded  by  a  grove  of  orange  trees. 
The  Giralda,  to  my  eye,  is  a  more  perfect  tower  than  the  Cam- 
panile of  Florence,  or  that  of  San  Marco,  at  Venice,  which  is 
evidently  an  idea  borrowed  from  it.  The  Moorish  structure, 
with  a  base  of  fifty  feet  square,  rises  to  the  height  of  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet.  It  is  of  a  light  pink  color,  and  the  sides, 
which  are  broken  here  and  there  by  exquisitely  proportioned 
double  Saracenic  arches,  are  covered  from  top  to  bottom  with 
arabesque  tracery,  cut  in  strong  relief.  Upon  this  tower,  a 
Spanish  architect  has  placed  a  tapering  spire,  one  hundred  feet 
high,  which  fortunately  harmonizes  with  the  general  design, 
and  gives  the  crowning  grace  to  the  work. 

The  Cathedral  of  Seville  may  rank  as  one  of  the  grandest 
Gothic  piles  in  Europe.  The  nave  lacks  but  five  feet  of  being 
as  high  as  that  of  St  Peter's,  while  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  edifice  are  on  a  commensurate  scale.  The  ninety-thre« 
windows  of  stained  glass  fill  the  interior  with  a  soft  and  richly 
tinted  light,  mellower  and  more  gentle  than  the  sombre  twi- 
Ugnt  of  the  Gothic  Cathedrals  of  Europe.  The  wealth 


398  THE     LANDS     Ot     THE     SARACE* 

lavished  on  the  smaller  chapels  and  shrines  is  prodigious,  anc 
the  high  altar,  inclosed  within  a  gilded  railing  fifty  feet  high,  ia 
probably  the  most  enormous  mass  of  wood-carving  in  existence. 
The  Cathedral,  in  fact,  is  encumbered  with  its  riches.  While 
they  bewilder  you  as  monuments  of  human  labor  aid  patience, 
they  detract  from  the  grand  simplicity  of  the  building.  Th« 
great  nave,  on  each  side  of  the  transept,  is  quite  blocked  up,  so 
that  the  choir  and  magnificent  royal  chapel  behind  it  have 
almost  the  effect  of  detached  edifices. 

We  returned  again  this  morning,  remaining  two  hours,  and 
succeeded  in  making  a  thorough  survey,  including  a  number  of 
trashy  pictures  and  barbarously  rich  shrines.  Murillo's 
"  Guardian  Angel"  and  the  "  Vision  of  St.  Antonio  "  are  th<! 
only  gems.  The  treasury  contains  a  number  of  sacred  vessels 
of  silver,  gold  and  jewels — among  other  tilings,  the  keys  of 
Moorish  Seville,  a  cross  made  of  the  first  gold  brought  from 
the  New-World  by  Columbus,  and  another  from  that  robbed 
in  Mexico  by  Cortez.  The  Cathedral  won  my  admiration 
more  and  more.  The  placing  of  the  numerous  windows,  and 
their  rich  coloring,  produce  the  most  glorious  effects  of  light  in 
the  lofty  aisles,  and  one  is  constantly  finding  new  vistas,  new 
combinations  of  pillar,  arch  and  shrine.  The  building  is  in 
itself  a  treasury  of  the  grandest  Goihic  pictures. 

Prom  the  Cathedral  we  went  to  the  Alcazar  (El-Kasr],  or 
I  alare  of  the  Moorish  Kings.  We  entered  by  a  long  passage, 
mth  round  arches  on  either  side,  resting  on  twin  pillars,  placed 
at  right  angles  to  the  line  of  the  arch,  as  one  sees  both  in 
Saracenic  and  Byzantine  structures.  Finally,  old  Bailli 
brought  us  into  a  dull,  deserted  court-yard,  where  we  wsre 
lorprised  by  tbe  s'ght  of  an  entire  Moorish  fa9ade,  with  iU 


THE    ALCAZAR.  369 

pointed  arches,  its  projecting  roof,  its  rich  sculptured  ornaments 
and  its  illuminations  of  red,  blue,  green  and  gold.  It  has  beea 
lately  restored,  and  now  rivals  in  freshness  and  brilliancy  any 
of  the  rich  houses  of  Damascus.  A  doorway,  entirely  too  low 
and  mean  for  the  splendor  of  the  walls  above  it,  admitted  us  into 
the  first  court.  On  each  side  of  the  passage  are  the  rooms  of 
the  guard  and  the  Moorish  nobles.  Within,  all  is  pure 
Saracenic,  aud  absolutely  perfect  in  its  grace  and  richness.  It 
is  the  realization  of  an  Oriental  dream  ;  it  is  the  poetry  and 
luxury  of  the  East  in  tangible  forms.  Where  so  much  depends 
on  the  proportion  and  harmony  of  the  different  parts — on  those 
correspondences,  the  union  of  which  creates  that  nameless  soul 
of  the  work,  which  cannot  be  expressed  in  words — it  is  useless 
to  describe  details.  From  first  to  last — the  chambers  of  state ; 
the  fringed  arches  ;  the  open  tracery,  light  and  frail  as  the 
frost-stars  crystallized  on  a  window-pane  ;  the  courts,  fit  to  be 
vestibules  to  Paradise  ;  the  audience-hall,  with  its  wondrous 
sculptures,  its  columns  and  pavement  of  marble,  and  its  gilded 
dome  ;  the  garden,  gorgeous  with  its  palm,  banana,  and 
orange-trees — all  were  in  perfect  keeping,  all  jewels  of  equal 
lustre,  forming  a  diadem  which  still  lends  a  royal  dignity  to  the 
phantom  of  Moorish  power. 

We  then  passed  into  the  gardens  laid  out  by  the  Spanish 
monarchs — trim,  mathematical  designs,  in  box  aud  myrtle, 
with  concealed  fountains  springing  up  everywhere  unawares 
in  the  midst  of  the  paven  walks  ;  yet  still  made  beautiful 
by  the  roses  aud  jessamines  that  hung  in  rank  clusters  over  thf 
marble  balustrades,  and  by  the  clumps  of  tall  orange  trees, 
bending  to  earth  under  the  weight  of  their  fruitage.  We 
afterward  visited  Pilate's  House,  as  it  is  called — a  tine  Span 


400  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARAC1N. 

ish-Moresco  palace,  now  belonging  to  the  Dnke  of  Medini 
Cceli.  It  is  very  rich  and  elegant  bat  stands  in  the  same 
relation  to  the  Alcazar  as  a  good  copy  does  to  the  origins* 
picture.  The  grand  staircase,  nevertheless,  is  a  marvel  of  tile 
work,  unlike  anything  else  in  Seville,  and  exhibits  a  genius  in 
r.he  invention  of  elaborate  ornamental  patterns,  which  is  truly 
wonderful.  A  number  of  workmen  were  busy  in  restoring  the 
palace,  to  fit  it  for  the  residence  of  the  young  Duke.  The 
Moorish  sculptures  are  reproduced  in  plaster,  which,  at  least, 
has  a  better  effect  than  the  fatal  whitewash  under  which  the 
original  tints  of  the  Alcazar  are  hidden.  In  the  courts  stand  a 
number  of  Roman  busts — Spanish  antiquities,  and  therefore 
not  of  great  merit — singularly  out  of  place  in  niches  sur- 
rounded by  Arabic  devices  and  sentences  from  the  Koran. 

This  morning,  I  climbed  the  Giralda.  The  sun  had  just 
risen,  and  the  day  was  fresh  and  crystal-clear.  A  little  door 
in  the  Cathedral,  near  the  foot  of  the  tower,  stood  open,  and  1 
entered.  A  rather  slovenly  Sevillana  had  just  completed  her 
toilet,  but  two  children  were  still  in  undress.  However,  she 
opened  a  door  in  the  tower,  and  I  went  up  without  hindrance. 
The  ascent  is  by  easy  ramps,  and  I  walked  four  hundred  yards, 
or  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  before  reaching  the  top  of  the 
Moorish  part.  The  panoramic  view  was  superb.  To  the  east 
and  west,  the  Great  Valley  made  a  level  line  on  a  far-distant, 
horizon.  There  were  ranges  of  hills  in  the  north  and  south, 
and  those  rising  near  the  city,  clothed  in  a  gray  mantle  of  olive- 
trees,  were  picturesquely  crowned  with  villages.  The  Guadal- 
quivir, winding  in  the  most  sinuous  mazes,  had  no  longer  a 
turbid  hue  ;  he  reflected  the  blue  morning  sky,  and  gleamed 
brightly  between  his  border?  of  birch  and  willow  Seville 


OLD    WINES — MURILLOS.  401 

iparklcd  white  and  fair  under  my  feet,  her  painted  towers  and 
tiled  domes  rising  thickly  out  of  the  mass  of  buildings.  The 
level  sun  threw  shadows  into  the  numberless  courts,  permitting 
the  mixture  of  Spanish  and  Moorish  architecture  to  be  plainly 
discerned,  even  at  that  height.  A  thin  golden  vapor  softened 
the  features  of  the  landscape,  towards  the  sun,  while,  on  the 
opposite  side,  every  object  stood  out  in  the  sharpest  and 
clearest  outlines. 

On  our  way  to  the  Mus6o,  Bailli  took  us  to  the  house  of  a 
friend  of  his,  in  order  that  we  might  taste  real  Manzanilla 
wine.  This  is  a  pale,  straw-colored  vintage,  produced  in  the 
valley  of  the  Guadalquivir.  It  is  flavored  with  camomile 
blossoms,  and  is  said  to  be  a  fine  tonic  for  weak  stomachs 
The  master  then  produced  a  dark-red  wine,  which  he  declared 
to  be  thirty  years  old.  It  was  almost  a  syrup  in  consistence, 
and  tasted  more  of  sarsaparilla  than  grapes.  None  of  us 
relished  it,  except  Bailli,  who  was  so  inspired  by  the  draught, 
th&t  he  sang  us  two  Moorish  songs  and  an  Andalusiau  catch, 
full  of  fun  and  drollery. 

The  Museo  contains  a  great  amount  of  bad  pictures,  but  it 
also  contains  twenty-three  of  Murillo's  works,  many  of  them 
of  his  best  period.  To  those  who  have  only  seen  his  tender, 
spiritual  "Conceptions"  and  "Assumptions,"  his  "Vision  of 
St.  Francis"  in  this  gallery  reveals  a  mastery  of  the  highei 
walks  of  his  art,  which  they  would  not  have  anticipated.  But 
it  is  in  his  "  Cherubs"  and  his  "  Infant  Christs"  that  he  excels. 
No  one  ever  painted  infantile  grace  and  beauty  with  so  true  a 
pencil.  There  is  but  one  Velasquez  in  the  collection,  and  the 
only  thing  that  interested  me,  in  two  halls  filled  with  rubbish, 
vas  a  ''Conception"  by  Mnrillo's  mulatto  pupil,  said  by  some 


402  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

to  have  been  his  slave.  Although  an  imitation  of  the  great 
master,  it  is  a  picture  of  much  sweetness  and  beauty.  Then 
te  no  other  work  of  the  artist  in  existence,  and  this,  as  the 
only  production  of  the  kind  by  a  painter  of  mixed  African 
blood,  ought  to  belong  to  the  Republic  of  Liberia. 

Among  the  other  guests  at  the  Fonda  de  Madrid  is  Mr. 
Thomas  Hobhouse,  brother  of  Byron's  friend.  We  had  a 
pleasant  party  in  the  Court  this  evening,  listening  to  blind 
Pepe,  who  sang  to  his  guitar  a  medley  of  merry  Andalusian 
refrains.  Singing  made  the  old  man  courageous,  and,  at  the 
close,  he  gave  us  the  radical  song  of  Spain,  which  is  now 
strictly  prohibited.  The  air  is  charming,  but  too  gay  ;  one 
would  sooner  dance  than  fight  to  its  measures.  It  does  nol 
bring  the  hand  to  the  sword.  like  the  glorious  Marseillaise 

Adios,  beaatifnl  Seville  ! 


SPANISH     DILIGENCE     LINES.  403 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

JOURNEY     IN     A     SPAKISH     DILIGEN3E. 

Spanish  Diligence  Lines — Leaving  Seville — A,  Unlucky  Start — Alcala  of  the  Bakers- 
Dinner  at  Carmona— A  Dehesa — The  Mayoral  and  his  Team — Ecija — Night  Journej 
—Cordova — The  Cathedral-Mosque — Moorish  Architecture— The  Sierra  Morena—  A 
Ratny  Journey — A  Chapter  of  Accidents — Baylen — The  Fascination  of  Spain — Jaen 
-The  Vega  of  Granada. 

GBAXADA,  November  14, 1862. 

IT  is  an  enviable  sensation  to  feel  for  the  first  time  that  yon 
are  in  Granada.  No  amount  of  travelling  can  weaken  the 
romantic  interest  which  clings  about  this  storied  place,  or  take 
away  aught  from  the  freshness  of  that  emotion  with  which  yon 
first  behold  it.  I  sit  almost  at  the  foot  of  the  Alhambra, 
whose  walls  I  can  see  from  my  window,  quite  satisfied  for  to- 
day with  being  here.  It  has  been  raining  since  I  arrived,  the 
thunder  is  crashing  overhead,  and  the  mountains  are  covered 
with  clouds,  so  I  am  kept  in-doors,  with  the  luxury  of  knowing 
that  all  the  wonders  of  the  place  are  within  my  reach.  And 
now  let  me  beguile  the  dull  weatner  by  giving  you  a  sketch  of 
my  journey  from  Seville  hither. 

There  are  three  lines  of  stages  from  Seville  to  Madrid,  and 
their  competition  has  reduced  the  fare  to  $12,  which,  for  a  ride 
of  350  miles,  is  remarkably  cheap.  The  trip  is  usually  made 
in  three  days  and  a  half.  A  branch  line  from  Baylen — nearly 


404 


THE    LANDS    OF    THE     SAJUCKH. 


half-way — strikes  southward  to  Granada,  and  as  there  is  nc 
competition  on  this  part  of  the  road,  I  was  charged  $15  for  a 
through  seat  in  the  coupe.  On  account  of  the  lateness  of  the 
season,  and  the  limited  time  at  my  command,  this  was  prefer 
able  to  taking  horses  and  riding  across  the  country  froir 
Seville  to  Cordova.  Accordingly,  at  an  early  hour  or. 
Thursday  morning  last,  furnished  with  a  travelling  ticket 
inscribed  :  "Don  Valtar  de  Talor  (myself  !),  I  took  leave  of 
my  English  friends  at  the  Fonda  de  Madrid,  got  into  an 
immense,  lumbering  yellow  vehicle,  drawn  by  ten  mules,  and 
started,  trusting  to  my  good  luck  and  bad  Spanish  to  get  safely 
through.  The  commencement,  however,  was  unpropitious,  and 
very  often  a  stumble  at  starting  makes  the  whole  journey  limp. 
The  near  mule  in  the  foremost  span  was  a  horse,  ridden  by  our 
postillion,  and  nothing  could  prevent  that  horse  from  darting 
into  all  sorts  of  streets  and  alleys  where  we  had  no  desire  to 
go.  As  all  mules  have  implicit  faith  in  horses,  of  course  the 
rest  of  the  animals  followed.  We  were  half  an  hour  in  getting 
out  of  Seville,  and  when  at  last  we  reached  the  open  road  and 
dashed  off  at  full  gallop,  one  of  the  mules  in  the  traces  fell  and 
was  dragged  in  the  dust  some  twenty  or  thirty  yards  before 
we  could  stop.  My  companions  in  the  coup6  were  a  young 
Spanish  officer  and  his  pretty  Andalusian  bride,  who  was  mak- 
ing her  first  journey  from  home,  and  after  these  mishaps  was 
in  a  state  of  constant  fear  and  anxiety. 

The  first  stage  across  the  valley  of  the  Guadalquivir  took 
as  to  the  town  of  Alcala,  which  lies  in  the  lap  of  the  hills 
above  the  beautiful  little  river  Guadaira.  It  is  a  picturesque 
spot  ;  the  naked  cliffs  overhanging  the  stream  have  the  rich, 
red  hue  of  cinnabar,  and  the  trees  and  shrubbery  in  tlu 


DIN.VER     AT     CAKMONA. 


406 


meadows,  and  on  the  hill-sides  are  ready  grouped  to  tha 
artist's  hand.  The  town  is  called  Alcala  de  los  Panadorec 
(of  the  Bakers)  from  its  hundreds  of  flour  mills  and  bake- 
ovens,  which  supply  Seville  with  those  white,  fine,  delicious 
twists,  of  which  Spain  may  be  justly  proud.  They  should 
have  been  sent  to  the  Exhibition  last  year,  with  the  Toledo 
blades  and  the  wooden  mosaics.  We  left  the  place  and  its 
mealy-headed  population,  and  turned  eastward  into  wide,  roll- 
ing tracts,  scattered  here  and  there  with  gnarled  olive  trees. 
The  soil  was  loose  and  sandy,  and  hedges  of  aloes  lined  the 
road.  The  country  is  thinly  populated,  and  very  little  of  it 
under  cultivation. 

About  noon  we  reached  Carmona,  which  was  founded  by 
the  Romans,  as,  indeed,  were  nearly  all  the  towns  of  Southern 
Spain.  It  occupies  the  crest  and  northern  slope  of  a  high 
hill,  whereon  the  ancient  Boorish  castle  still  stands.  The 
Alcazar,  or  palace,  and  the  Moorish  walls  also  remain, 
though  in  a  very  ruinous  condition.  Here  we  stopped  to 
dinner,  for  the  "  Nueva  Peninsular,"  in  which  I  was  embarked, 
has  its  hotels  all  along  the  route,  like  that  of  Zurutuza,  in 
Mexico.  We  were  conducted  into  a  small  room  adjoining  the 
stables,  and  adorned  with  colored  prints  illustrating  the 
history  of  Don  John  of  Austria.  The  table-cloths,  plates  and 
other  appendages  were  of  very  ordinary  quality,  but  indispu- 
tably clean  ;  we  seated  ourselves,  and  presently  the  dinner 
appeared.  First,  a  vermicelli  pilaff",  which  I  found  palatable, 
then  the  national  oUa,  a  dish  of  enormous  yellow  peas, 
sprinkled  with  bits  of  bacon  and  flavored  with  oil  ;  then  three 
successive  courses  of  chicken,  boiled,  stewed  and  roasted,  but 
in  every  case  done  to  rags,  and  without  a  particle  of  the  origi 


406  TEE     LAXDS    OF     THE     SARACEN. 

nal  flavor.  This  was  the  usual  style  of  our  ineals  on  the  road, 
whether  breakfast,  dinner  or  supper,  except  that  kid  was 
sometimes  substituted  for  fowl,  and  that  the  oil  employed, 
being  more  or  less  rancid,  gave  different  flavors  to  the 
dishes.  A  course  of  melons,  grapes  or  pomegranates  wound 
op  the  repast,  the  price  of  which  varied  from  ten  to  twelve 
reals — a  real  being  about  a  half-dime.  In  Seville,  at  the 
Fonda  de  Madrid,  the  cooking  is  really  excellent;  but  furthei 
in  the  interior,  judging  from  what  I  have  heard,  it  is  even 
worse  than  I  have  described. 

Continuing  our  journey,  we  passed  around  the  southern 
brow  of  the  hill,  under  the  Moorish  battlements.  Here  a 
superb  view  opened  to  the  south  and  east  over  the  wide  Veg-a 
of  Carmona,  as  far  as  the  mountain  chain  which  separates  it 
from  the  plain  of  Granada.  The  city  has  for  a  coat  of  arms  a 
silver  star  in  an  azure  field,  with  the  pompous  motto  :  "  As 
Lucifer  shines  in  the  morning,  so  shines  Carmoua  in  Anda- 
lusia." If  it  shines  at  all,  it  is  because  it  is  a  city  set  upon  a 
hill  ;  for  that  is  the  only  splendor  I  could  find  about  the  place. 
The  Vega  of  Carmona  is  partially  cultivated,  and  now  wears  a 
sombre  brown  hue,  from  its  tracts  of  ploughed  land. 

Cultivation  soon  ceased,  however,  and  we  entered  on  a 
dehesa,  a  boundless  plain  of  waste  land,  covered  with  thickets 
of  palmettos.  Flocks  of  goats  and  sheep,  guarded  by  shep- 
herds in  brown  cloaks,  wandered  here  and  there,  and  except 
their  huts  and  an  isolated  house,  with  its  group  of  palm-trees, 
there  was  no  sign  of  habitation.  The  road  was  a  deep,  red 
sand,  and  our  mules  toiled  along  slowly  and  painfully,  urged 
by  the  incessant  cries  of  the  mayoral,  or  conductor,  and  his 
wozo.  As  the  mayoral's  \vhip  could  oulj  reach  the  second 


THE  MAYORAL  AND  HIS  TEAM.  iOl 

span,  the  business  of  the  latter  was  to  jump  down  every  lei: 
minutes,  run  ahead  and  belabor  the  flanks  of  the  foremost 
mules,  uttering  at  the  same  time  a  series  of  sharp  howls,  which 
seemed  to  strike  the  poor  beasts  with  quite  as  much  severity 
as  his  whip.  I  defy  even  a  Spanish  ear  to  distinguish  the 
import  of  these  cries,  and  the  great  wonder  was  how  they 
could  all  come  out  of  one  small  throat.  When  it  came  to  a 
hard  pull,  they  cracked  and  exploded  like  volleys  of  musketry, 
and  flew  like  hail-stones  about  the  ears  of  the  machos  (he- 
mules).  The  postillion,  having  only  the  care  of  the  foremost 
span,  is  a  silent  man,  but  be  has  contracted  a  habit  of  sleeping 
in  the  saddle,  which  I  mention  for  the  benefit  of  timid 
travellers,  as  it  adds  to  the  interest  of  a  journey  by  night. 

The  clouds  which  had  been  gathering  all  day,  now  settled 
down  upon  the  plain,  and  night  came  on  with  a  dull  rain.  At 
eight  o'clock  we  reached  the  City  of  Ecija,  where  we  had  two 
hours'  halt  and  supper.  It  was  so  dark  and  rainy  that  I 
saw  nothing,  not  even  the  classic  Xenil,  the  river  of  Granada, 
which  flows  through  the  city  on  its  way  to  the  Guadalquivir. 
The  night  wore  slowly  away,  and  while  the  mozo  drowsed  on 
his  post,  I  caught  snatches  of  sleep  between  his  cries.  As  the 
landscape  began  to  grow  distinct  in  the  gray,  cloudy  dawn,  we 
saw  before  us  Cordova,  with  the  dark  range  of  the  Sierra  Mo- 
rena  rising  behind  it.  This  city,  once  the  glory  of  Moorish 
Spain,  the  capital  of  the  great  Abd-er-Rahman,  containing, 
when  in  its  prime,  a  million  of  inhabitants,  is  now  a  melancholy 
wreck.  It  has  not  a  shadow  of  the  art,  science,  and  taste 
which  then  distinguished  it,  and  the  only  interest  it  now  pos 
Besses  is  from  these  associations,  and  the  despoiled  remnant  of 
its  renowned  Mosque. 


408  THK  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

We  crossed  the  Guadalquivir  on  a  fine  bridge  built  on 
Roman  foundations,  and  drove  slowly  down  the  one  long 
rough,  crooked  street.  The  diligence  stops  for  an  hour,  to 
allow  passengers  to  breakfast,  but  my  first  thought  was  for  the 
Cathedral-mosque,  la  Mezquita,  as  it  is  still  called.  "  It  is 
dosed,"  said  the  ragged  crowd  that  congregated  about  us  ; 
"you  cannot  get  in  until  eight  o'clock."  But  I  remembered 
that  a  silver  key  will  open  anything  in  Spain,  and  taking  a 
inozo  as  a  guide  we  hurried  off  as  fast  as  the  rough  pavements 
would  permit.  We  had  to  retrace  the  whole  length  of  the  city, 
but  on  reaching  the  Cathedral,  found  it  open.  The  exterior  is 
low,  and  quite  plain,  though  of  great  extent.  A  Moorish  gate- 
way admitted  me  into  the  original  court-yard,  or  haram,  of  the 
mosque,  which  is  planted  with  orange  trees  and  contains  the 
fountain,  for  the  ablutions  of  Moslem  worshippers,  in  the  centre. 
The  area  of  the  Mosque  proper,  exclusive  of  the  court-yard,  is 
about  400  by  350  feet.  It  was  built  on  the  plan  of  the  great 
Mosque  of  Damascus,  about  the  end  of  the  eighth  century 
Fhe  materials — including  twelve  hundred  columns  of  marble 
jasper  and  porphyry,  from  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  and  the 
temples  of  Asia  Minor — belonged  to  a  Christian  basilica,  of 
the  Gothic  domination,  which  was  built  upon  the  foundations 
of  a  Roman  temple  of  Janus  ;  so  that  the  three  great  creeds 
of  the  world  have  here  at  different  times  had  their  seat.  The 
Moors  considered  this  mosque  as  second  iu  holiness  to  the 
Kaaba  of  Mecca,  and  made  pilgrimages  to  it  from  all  parts  of 
Moslem  Spain  and  Barbary.  Even  now,  although  shorn  of 
much  of  its  glory,  it  surpasses  any  Oriental  mosque  into  which 
I  have  penetrated,  except  St.  Sophia,  which  is  a  Christiai 
edifice. 


THE  MOSQUE  OF  CORDOVA.  409 

All  the  iiineteen  original  enhances — beautiful  horse-shoe 
arches — a»e  closed,  except  the  central  one.  I  entered  by  a  low 
door,  in  one  corner  of  the  corridor.  A  wilderness  of  columua 
connected  by  double  arches  (one  springing  above  the  other, 
with  an  opening  between),  spread  their  dusky  aisles  before  me 
in  the  morning  twilight.  The  eight  hundred  and  fifty  shafts 
of  this  marble  forest  formed  labyrinths  and  mazes,  which  at 
that  early  hour  appeared  boundless,  for  their  long  vistas  disap- 
peared in  the  shadows.  Lamps  were  burning  before  distant 
shrines,  and  a  few  worshippers  were  kneeling  silently  here  and 
there.  The  sound  of  my  own  footsteps,  as  I  wandered  through 
the  ranks  of  pillars,  was  all  that  I  heard.  In  the  centre  of 
the  wood  (for  such  it  seemed)  rises  the  choir,  a  gaudy  and 
tasteless  excrescence  added  by  the  Christians.  Even  Charles 
V.,  who  laid  a  merciless  hand  on  the  Alhambra,  reproved  the 
Bishop  of  Cordova  for  this  barbarous  and  unnecessary  dis- 
figurement. 

The  sacristan  lighted  lamps  in  order  to  show  me  the  Moorish 
chapels.  Nothing  but  the  precious  materials  of  which  these 
exquisite  structures  are  composed  could  have  saved  them  from 
the  holy  hands  of  the  Inquisition,  which  intentionally  destroyed 
all  the  Roman  antiquities  of  Cordova.  Here  the  fringed 
arches,  the  lace-like  filigrees,  the  wreathed  inscriptions,  and  the 
domes  of  pendent  stalactites  which  enchant  von  in  the  Alcazar 
of  Seville,  are  repeated,  not  in  stucco,  but  in  purest  marble, 
while  the  entrance  to  the  "  holy  of  holies"  is  probably  the  most 
glorious  piece  of  mosaic  in  the  world.  The  pavement  of  the 
interior  is  deeply  worn  by  the  knees  of  .he  Moslem  pilgrims, 
who  compassed  it  seven  times,  kneeling,  as  they  now  do  iu  the 
Kaaba.  at  Mecca.  The  sides  are  embroidered  with  sentences 

A* 


il  THE  LANDS  OP  THE  SARACEN. 

from  the  Koran,  in  Cufic  characters,  and  the  roof  is  iu  tin 
form  of  a  fluted  shell,  of  a  single  piece  of  pure  white  marble 
fifteen  feet  in  diameter.     The  roof  of  the  vestibule  is  a  wo: 
derful  piece  of  workmanship,  formed  of  pointed  arches,  wreathed 
and  twined  through  each  other,  like  basket-work.     No  peopl 
ever  wrought  poetry  into  stone  so  perfectly  as  the  Saracens. 
In  looking  on  these  precious  relics  of  an  elegant  and  refined 
race,  I  cannot  help  feeling  a  strong  regret  that  their  kingdom 
ever  passed  into  other  hands. 

Leaving  Cordova,  our  road  followed  the  Guadalquivir,  along 
the  foot  of  the  Sierra  Morena,  which  rose  dark  and  stern,  a 
barrier  to  the  central  table-lauds  of  La  Mancha.  At  Alcolea, 
we  crossed  the  river  on  a  noble  bridge  of  black  marble,  out  of 
all  keeping  with  the  miserable  road.  It  rained  incessantly, 
and  the  scenery  through  which  we  passed  had  a  wild  and 
gloomy  character.  Tfie  only  tree  to  be  seen  was  the  olive, 
which  covered  the  hills  far  and  near,  the  profusion  of  its  fruit 
showing  the  natural  richness  of  the  soil.  This  part  of  the 
road  is  sometimes  infested  with  robbers,  and  once,  when  I  saw 
two  individuals  waiting  for  us  in  a  lonely  defile,  with  gun-ba^ 
rels  thrust  out  from  under  their  black  cloaks,  I  anticipated  a 
recurrence  of  a  former  unpleasant  experience.  But  they  proved 
to  be  members  of  the  guardia  civil,  and  therefore  our  pro- 
tectors. 

The  ruts  and  quagmires,  made  by  the  rain,  retarded  our  pro- 
gress, and  it  was  dark  when  we  reached  Andujar,  fourteen 
leagues  from  Cordova.  To  Baylen,  where  I  was  to  quit  the 
diligence,  and  take  another  coming  down  from  Madrid  to 
Granada,  was  four  leagues  further  We  journeyed  on  in  the 
dark,  iu  a  pouring  rain,  up  and  down  hill  for  some  houra 


A    NU;HT   ADVENTURE  411 

when  all  at  once  the  cries  of  the  mozo  ceased,  and  the  diligence 
came  to  a  dead  stop.  There  was  some  talk  between  our  con- 
ductors, and  then  the  mayoral  opened  the  door  and  invited  as 
to  get  out.  The  postillion  had  fallen  asleep,  and  the  mules  had 
taken  us  into  a  wrong  road.  An  attempt  was  made  to  turn 
the  diligence,  but  failed,  leaving  it  standing  plump  against  a 
high  bank  of  mud.  We  stood,  meanwhile,  shivering  in  the 
cold  and  wet,  and  the  fair  Andalusian  shed  abundance  of  tears. 
Fortunately,  Baylen  was  close  at  hand,  and,  after  some  delay, 
two  men  came  with  lanterns  and  escorted  us  to  the  posada,  or 
inn,  where  we  arrived  at  midnight.  The  diligence  from  Madrid, 
which  was  due  six  hours  before,  had  not  made  its  appearance, 
and  we  passed  the  rest  of  the  night  in  a  cold  room,  fasting, 
for  the  meal  was  only  to  be  served  when  the  other  passengers 
came.  At  day-break,  finally,  a  single  dish  of  oily  meat  was 
vouchsafed  to  us,  and,  as  it  was  now  certain  that  some  acci- 
dent had  happened,  the  passengers  to  Madrid  requested  the 
Administrador  to  send  them  on  in  an  extra  conveyance.  This 
he  refused,  and  they  began  to  talk  about  getting  up  a  pronun 
ciamento,  when  a  messenger  arrived  with  the  news  that  the 
diligence  had  broken  down  at  midnight,  about  two  leagues  off. 
Tools  were  thereupon  dispatched,  nine  hours  after  the  accident 
happened,  and  we  might  hope  to  be  released  from  our  imprison- 
ment in  four  or  five  more. 

Baylen  is  a  wretched  place,  celebrated  for  having  the  first 
palm-tree  which  those  see  who  come  from  Madrid,  and  for  the 
rictory  gained  by  Castanos  over  the  French  forces  under 
Dupont,  which  occasioned  the  flight  of  Joseph  Buonaparte 
from  Madrid,  and  the  temporary  liberation  of  Spain  from  the 
French  yoke.  Castanos,  who  received  the  title  of  Duke  df 


418  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

Baylen,  and  is  compared  by  the  Spaniards  to  Wellington,  died 
about  three  months  ago.  The  battle-field  I  passed  in  the 
night  ;  the  palm-tree  I  found,  but  it  is  now  a  mere  stnrnp 
the  leaves  having  been  stripped  off  to  protect  the  houses  of 
the  inhabitants  from  lightning.  Our  posada  had  one  of  them 
hung  at  the  window.  At  last,  the  diligence  came,  and  at  three 
P.M.,  when  I  ought  to  have  been  in  sight  of  Granada,  I  left  the 
forlorn  walls  of  Baylen.  My  fellow-passengers  were  a  young 
sprig  of  the  Spanish  nobility  and  three  chubby-faced  nuns. 

The  rest  of  the  journey  that  afternoon  was  through  a  wide, 
hilly  region,  entirely  bare  of  trees  and  habitations,  and  but 
partially  cultivated.  There  was  something  sublime  in  its  very 
nakedness  and  loneliness,  and  I  felt  attracted  to  it  as  I  do 
towards  the  Desert.  In  fact,  although  I  have  seen  little  fine 
scenery  since  leaving  Seville,  have  had  the  worst  of  weather, 
and  no  very  pleasant  travelling  experiences,  the  country  has 
exercised  a  fascination  over  me,  which  I  do  not  quite  under- 
stand. I  find  myself  constantly  on  the  point  of  making  a  vow 
to  return  again.  Much  to  my  regret,  night  set  in  before  we 
reached  Jaen,  the  capital  of  the  Moorish  kingdom  of  thai 
name.  We  halted  for  a  short  time  in  the  large  plaza  of  the 
town,  where  the  dash  of  fountains  mingled  with  the  sound  of 
the  rain,  and  the  black,  jagged  outline  of  a  mountain  over 
hanging  the  place  was  visible  through  the  storm. 

All  night  we  journeyed  on  through  the  mountains,  some- 
times splashing  through  swollen  streams,  sometimes  coming 
almost  to  a  halt  in  beds  of  deep  mud.  When  this  morning 
dawned,  we  were  ascending  through  wild,  stony  hills,  over 
grown  with  shrubbery,  and  the  driver  said  we  were  six  leagues 
from  Granada.  Still  on,  through  a  lonely  country,  with  no* 


THE    VEGA    OF    GRANADA.  413 

and  then  a  large  venta,  or  country  inn,  by  the  road  side,  and 
about  nine  o'clock,  as  the  sky  became  more  clear,  I  saw  in 
front  of  us,  high  up  under  the  clouds,  the  suow-fields  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada.  An  hour  afterwards  we  were  riding  between 
gardens,  vineyards,  and  olive  orchards,  with  the  magnificent 
Vega  of  Granada  stretching  far  away  on  the  right,  and  the 
Vermilion  Towers  of  th3  Alhambra  crowning  the  heights 
before  us. 


414  XH2     LAXDS     OF    THE     SARACSK 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

GRANADA  AND  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

Mateo  Xlmenea,  the  Younger— The  Cathedral  of  Granada— A  Monkish  Miracle — Catholic 
Shrines — Military  Cherubs — The  Royal  Chapel — The  Tombs  of  Ferdinand  and  Isa- 
bella— Chapel  of  San  Juan  de  Dios — The  Albaycin — View  of  the  Vega — The  Generalife— 
The  Alhambra — Torra  de  la  Vela — The  Walls  and  Towers — A  Visit  to  Old  Mateo— 
The  Court  of  the  Fish-pond — The  Halls  of  the  Alhambra — Character  of  the  Architec- 
ture— HaJ  of  the  Abencerrages— >SaU  of  the  Two  Sisters — The  Moorish  Dynasty  !o 
Spain. 

"  Who  has  not  in  Granada  been. 
Verily,  he  has  nothing  seen." 

Andaluxivn  Proverb. 

GRASADA,  Wednesday,  Nov.  17, 1852. 

IMMEDIATELY  on  reaching  here,  I  was  set  npon  by  an  old 
gentleman  who  wanted  to  act  as  guide,  but  the  mozo  of 
the  hotel  put  into  my  hand  a  card  inscribed  "  Don  Mateo 
Ximenez,  Guide  to  the  celebrated  Washington  Irving,"  and  I 
dismissed  the  other  applicant.  The  next  morning,  as  the  mozo 
brought  me  my  chocolate,  he  said  ;  "  Senor,  d  chico  is  waiting 
for  you."  The  "  little  one "  turned  out  to  be  the  son  of  old 
Mateo,  "honest  Mateo,"  who  still  lives  up  in  the  Alhambra, 
but  is  now  rather  too  old  to  continue  his  business,  except  on 
great  occasions  I  accepted  the  young  Mateo,  who  spoke  with 
the  greatest  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  Irving,  avowing  that  the  whole 
family  was  devoted  to  him,  in  life  and  death.  It  was  still 


THfc     CATHEDRAL     OF     GRANADA.  416 

ruining  furiously,  and  the  golden  Darro,  which  roars  in 
front  of  the  hotel,  was  a  swollen  brown  flood.  I  don't 
wonder  that  he  sometimes  threatens,  as  the  old  couplet  says, 
to  bnrst  up  the  Zacatin,  and  bear  it  down  to  his  bride,  the 
Xenil. 

Towards  noon,  the  clouds  broke  away  a  little,  and  we  sallied 
out.  Passing  through  the  gate  and  square  of  Yivarrambla 
(may  not  this  name  come  from  the  Arabic  bab  er-raml,  the 
"gate  of  the  sand?"),  we  soon  reached  the  Cathedral.  Thia 
massive  structure,  which  makes  a  good  feature  in  the  distant 
view  of  Granada,  is  not  at  all  imposing,  near  at  hand.  The 
interior  is  a  mixture  of  Gothic  and  Roman,  glaring  with  white- 
wash, and  broken,  like  that  of  Seville,  by  a  wooden  choir  and 
two  grand  organs,  blocking  up  the  nave.  Some  of  the  side 
chapels,  nevertheless,  are  splendid  masses  of  carving  and  gild- 
ing. In  one  of  them,  there  are  two  full-length  portraits  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  supposed  to  be  by  Alonzo  Cano.  The 
Cathedral  contains  some  other  good  pictures  by  the  same 
master,  but  all  its  former  treasures  were  carried  off  by  the 
French. 

We  next  went  to  the  Picture  Gallery,  which  is  in  the  Fran- 
ciscan Convent.  There  are  two  small  Murillos,  much  damaged, 
some  tolerable  Alonzo  Canos,  a  few  common-place  pictures 
by  Juan  de  Sevilla,  and  a  hundred  or  more  by  authors  whose 
Dames  I  did  not  inquire,  for  a  more  hideous  collection  of  trash 
never  met  my  eye.  One  of  them  represents  a  miracle  per- 
formed by  two  saints,  who  cut  off  the  diseased  leg  of  a  sick 
white  man,  and  replace  it  by  the  sound  leg  of  a  dead  negro, 
whose  body  is  seen  lying  beside  the  bed.  Judging  from  the 
ghastly  face  of  the  patient,  the  operation  is  rather  painful 


THE    LANDS    07    TBS    SARACEN. 

though  the  story  goes  that  the  black  leg  grew  fast,  and  the 
man  recovered.  The  picture  at  least  illustrates  the  absence  of 
"prejudice  of  color"  among  the  Saints. 

We  went  into  the  adjoining  Church  of  Santo  Domingo, 
which  has  several  very  rich  shrines  of  marble  and  gold.  A 
sort  of  priestly  sacristan  opened  the  Church  of  the  Madonna 
del  Rosario— a  glittering  mixture  of  marble,  gold,  and  looking 
glasses,  which  has  rather  a  rich  effect.  The  beautiful  yellow 
and  red  veined  marbles  are  from  the  Sierra  Nevada.  The 
sacred  Madonna — a  big  doll  with  staring  eyes  and  pink  cheeks 
— has  a  dress  of  silver,  shaped  like  an  extinguisher,  and 
eucrusted  with  rubies  and  other  precious  stones.  The  utter 
absence  of  taste  in  most  Catholic  shrines  is  an  extraordinary 
thing.  It  seems  remarkable  that  a  Church  which  has  produced 
so  many  glorious  artists  should  so  constantly  and  grossly  vio- 
late the  simplest  rules  of  art.  The  only  shrine  which  I  have 
seen,  which  was  in  keeping  with  the  object  adored,  is  that  of 
the  Virgin,  at  Nazareth,  where  there  is  neither  picture  noi 
Image,  but  only  vases  of  fragrant  flowers,  and  perfumed  oil  in 
golden  lamps,  burning  before  a  tablet  of  spotless  marble. 

Among  the  decorations  of  the  chapel,  there  are  a  host  of 
cherubs  frescoed  on  the  ceiling,  and  one  of  them  is  represented 
in  the  act  of  firing  off  a  blunderbuss.  "  Is  it  true  that  the 
angels  carry  blunderbusses  ?"  I  asked  the  priest.  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders  with  a  sort  of  half-smile,  and  said  nothing.  lu 
the  Cathedral,  on  the  plinths  of  the  columns  in  the  outei 
aisles,  are  several  notices  to  the  effect  that  "  whoever  speaks 
to  women,  either  in  the  nave  or  the  aisles,  thereby  puts  him 
self  in  danger  of  excommunication."  I  could  not  help  laugh 
inar,  as  I  read  this  monkish  and  yet  most  wTtmonk-like  statute 


THE     ROYAL     CHAPEL.  417 

4 Oh,"  said  Mateo,  "  all  that  was  in  the  despotic  timos  it  ii 
not  so  now." 

A  deluge  of  rain  put  a  stop  to  my  sight-seeing  until  the  next 
morning,  when  I  set  out  with  Mateo  to  visit  the  Royal  Chapel. 
A  murder  had  been  committed  in  the  night,  near  the  entrance 
of  the  Zacatin,  and  the  paving-stones  were  still  red  with  the 
blood  of  the  victim.  A  fundon  of  some  sort  was  going  on  in 
the  Chapel,  and  we  went  into  the  sacristy  to  wait.  The  priests 
and  choristers  were  there,  changing  their  robes ;  they  saluted 
me  good-humoredly,  though  there  was  an  expression  in  their 
faces  that  plainly  said  :  "  a  heretic  1"  When  the  service  was 
concluded,  I  went  into  the  chapel  and  examined  the  high  altar, 
with  its  rude  wood-carvings,  representing  the  surrender  of 
Granada.  The  portraits  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  Cardinal 
Ximenez,  Gonzalvo  of  Cordova,  and  King  Boabdil,  are  very 
curious.  Another  tablet  represents  the  baptism  of  the  con- 
quered Moors. 

In  the  centre  of  the  chapel  stand  the  monuments  erected  to 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  and  their  successors  Philip  I.,  and 
Maria,  by  Charles  V.  They  are  tall  catafalques  of  white 
marble,  superbly  sculptured,  with  the  full  length  effigies  of  the 
monarchs  upon  them.  The  figures  are  admirable ;  that  of 
Isabella,  especially,  though  the  features  are  settled  in  the 
repose  of  death,  expresses  all  the  grand  and  noble  traits  which 
belonged  to  her  character.  The  sacristan  removed  the  mat- 
ting from  a  part  of  the  floor,  disclosing  an  iron  grating  under- 
neath. A  damp,  mouldly  smell,  significant  of  death  and 
decay,  came  up  through  the  opening.  He  lighted  two  long 
waxen  tapers,  lifted  the  grating,  and  I  followed  him  down  the 
omrrow  steps  into  the  vault  where  lie  the  coffins  of  the  Catho 


418  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

lie  Sovereigus.  They  were  brought  here  from  the  Alhanibra, 
in  1525.  The  leaden  sarcophagi,  containing  the  bodies  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  lie,  side  by  side,  on  stone  slabs  ;  and 
as  1  stood  between  the  two,  resting  a  hand  on  each,  the  sacris- 
tan placed  the  tapers  in  apertures  in  the  stone,  at  the  head 
and  foot.  They  sleep,  as  they  wished,  in  their  beloved  Gra- 
nada, and  no  profane  hand  has  ever  disturbed  the  repose  of 
their  ashes. 

After  visiting  the  Church  of  San  Jeronimo,  founded  by  Gon- 
^alvo  of  Cordova,  I  went  to  the  adjoining  Church  and  Hospi 
tal  of  San  Jnan  de  Dios.  A  fat  priest,  washing  his  hands  in 
the  sacristy,  sent  a  boy  to  show  me  the  Chapel  of  San  Juah, 
and  the  relics.  The  remains  of  the  Saint  rest  in  a  silver  chest, 
standing  in  the  centre  of  a  richly-adorned  chapel.  Among 
the  relics  is  a  thorn  from  the  crown  of  Christ,  which,  as  any 
botanist  may  see,  must  have  grown  on  a  different  plant  from 
the  other  thorn  they  show  at  Seville ;  and  neither  kind 
is  found  in  Palestine.  The  true  spina  christi,  the  nebbnk,  ha.* 
rery  small  thorns ;  but  nothing  could  be  more  cruel,  as  I 
found  when  riding  through  patches  of  it  near  Jericho.  The 
boy  also  showed  me  a  tooth  of  San  Lorenzo,  a  crooked  brown 
bicuspis,  from  which  I  should  infer  that  the  saitii,  was  rather  an 
ill-favored  man.  The  gilded  chapel  of  San  Juan  is  in  singular 
contrast  with  one  of  the  garments  which  be  wore  when  living 
—a  cowl  of  plaited  reeds,  looking  like  an  old  fish  basket — 
which  is  kept  in  a  glass  case.  His  portrait  is  also  to  be  seen 
a  mild  and  beautiful  face,  truly  that  of  one  who  went  about 
doing  good.  He  was  a  sort  of  Spanish  John  Howard,  and" 
ieserved  canonization,  if  anybody  ever  did. 

I  ascended  the  street  of  the  Darro  to  the  Albaycin,  whi.'h 


OF    THE    VBQA.  41 9 

we  entered  by  one  of  the  ancient  gates.  This  suburb  is  stifl 
surrounded  by  the  original  fortifications,  and  undermined  by 
the  capacious  cisterns  of  the  Moors.  It  looks  down  on  Gra- 
nada ;  and  from  the  crumbling  parapets  there  are  superb  views 
over  the  city,  the  Vega,  and  its  inclosing  mountains.  The 
Alhambra  rose  opposite,  against  the  dark-red  and  purple  back- 
ground of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  a  canopy  of  heavy  rain- 
clouds  rested  on  all  the  heights.  A  fitful  gleam  of  sunshine 
now  and  then  broke  through  and  wandered  over  the  plain, 
touching  up  white  towers  and  olive  groves  and  reaches  of  the 
winding  Xenil,  with  a  brilliancy  which  suggested  the  splendor 
of  the  whole  picture,  if  once  thus  restored  to  its  proper  light. 
I  could  see  Santa  Fe  in  the  distance,  toward  Loxa  ;  nearer, 
and  more  eastward,  the  Sierra  de  Elvira,  of  a  deep  violet 
color,  with  the  woods  of  the  Soto  de  Roma,  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington's estate,  at  its  base  ;  and  beyond  it  the  Mountain  of 
Parapanda,  the  weather-guage  of  Granada,  still  covered  with 
clouds.  There  is  an  old  Granadian  proverb  which  says  : — 
"  When  Parapanda  wears  his  bonnet,  it  will  rain  whether  God 
wills  it  or  no."  From  the  chapel  of  San  Miguel,  above  the 
Albaycin,  there  is  a  very  striking  view  of  the  deep  gorge  of 
the  Darro,  at  one's  feet,  with  the  gardens  and  white  walls  of 
the  Generalife  rising  beyond,  and  the  Silla  del  Moro  and  the 
Mountain  of  the  Sun  towering  above  it.  The  long,  irregular 
lines  of  the  Alhambra,  with  the  huge  red  towers  rising  here  and 
there,  reminded  me  somewhat  of  a  distant  view  of  Karnak  ; 
and,  like  Karnak,  the  Alhambra  is  picturesque  from  whatevei 
point  it  is  viewed. 

We  descended  through  wastes  of  cactus  to  the  Darro,  in 
whose  turbid  stream  a  group  of  men  were  washing  for  gold    7 


*20  THK    LANDS    OF    THE     SARACEN. 

watched  one  of  them,  as  he  twirled  his  bowl  in  precisely 
the  California  style,  but  got  nothing  for  his  paius.  Matec 
says  that  they  often  make  a  dollar  a  day,  each.  Passing  nndei 
the  Tower  of  Comares  and  along  the  battlements  of  the 
Alhambra,  we  climbed  up  to  the  Generalife.  This  charming 
villa  is  still  in  good  preservation,  though  its  exquisite  filigree 
and  scroll-work  have  been  greatly  injured  by  whitewash. 
The  elegant  colonnades  surround  gardens  rich  in  roses, 
myrtles  and  cypresses,  and  the  fountains  that  lulled  the  Moor- 
ish Kings  in  their  summer  idleness  still  pour  their  fertilizing 
streams.  In  one  of  the  rooms  is  a  small  and  bad  portrait  gal- 
lery, containing  a  supposed  portrait  of  Boabdil.  It  is  a  mild, 
amiable  face,  but  wholly  lacks  strength  of  character. 

To-day  I  devoted  to  the  Alhambra.  The  storm,  which,  as 
the  people  say,  has  not  been  equalled  for  several  years,  showed 
no  signs  of  breaking  up,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  driving  shower 
I  ascended  to  the  Vermilion  Towers,  which  are  supposed  to 
be  of  Phrenician  origin.  They  stand  on  the  extremity  of  a 
long,  narrow  ledge,  which  stretches  out  like  an  arm  from  the 
hill  of  the  Alhambra.  The  paseo  lies  between,  and  is  shaded 
by  beautiful  elms,  which  the  Moors  planted. 

I  entered  the  Alhambra  by  the  Gate  of  Justice,  which  is  a 
fine  specimen  of  Moorish  architecture,  though  of  common  red 
brick  and  mortar.  It  is  singular  what  a  grace  the  horse-shoe 
arch  gives  to  the  most  heavy  and  himbering  mass  of  masonry. 
The  round  arches  of  the  Christian  edifices  of  Granada  seem 
tame  and  inelegant,  in  comparison.  Over  the  arch  of  the  ves- 
tibule of  this  gate  is  the  colossal  hand,  and  over  the  inner 
entrance  the  key,  celebrated  in  the  tales  of  Washington  Irving 
and  the  superstitions  of  the  people.  I  first  ascended  the  Torre 


WALLS     AND    TOWERS     OF    THE     ALHAMBRA.  42] 

de  la  Vela,  where  the  Christian  flag  was  first  planted  on  the 
2d  of  January,  1492.  The  view  of  the  Yega  and  City  of  Gra 
nada  was  even  grander  than  from  the  Albaycin.  Parapanda 
was  still  bonneted  in  clouds,  but  patches  of  blue  sky  began  t< 
'»pen  above  the  mountains  of  Loxa.  A  little  boy  accompanied 
us,  to  see  that  I  did  not  pull  the  bell,  the  sound  of  which 
would  call  together  all  the  troops  in  the  city.  While  we 
stood  there,  the  funeral  procession  of  the  man  murdered  two 
nights  before  came  up  the  street  of  Gomerez,  and  passed 
around  the  hill  under  the  Vermilion  Towers. 

I  made  the  circuit  of  the  walls  before  entering  the  Palace 
In  the  Place  of  the  Cisterns,  I  stopped  to  take  a  drink  of  the 
cool  water  of  the  Darro,  which  is  brought  thither  by  subterra 
nean  channels  from  the  hills.  Then,  passing  the  ostentatious 
pile  commenced  by  Charles  V.,  but  which  was  never  finished, 
and  never  will  be,  nor  ought  to  be,  we  walked  along  the 
southern  ramparts  to  the  Tower  of  the  Seven  Floors,  amid  the 
ruins  of  which  I  discerned  the  top  of  the  arch  by  which  the 
unfortunate  Boabdil  quitted  Granada,  and  which  was  thence- 
forth closed  for  ever.  In  the  Tower  of  the  Infantas,  a  number 
of  workmen  were  busy  restoring  the  interior,  which  has  beer 
cruelly  damaged.  The  brilliant  azulejo,  or  tile-work,  the  deli- 
cate arches  and  filigree  sculpture  of  the  walls,  still  attest  its 
former  elegance,  and  give  some  color  to  the  tradition  that  it 
was  the  residence  of  the  Moorish  Princesses. 

As  we  passed  through  the  little  village  which  still  exists 
among  the  ruins  of  the  fortress,  Mateo  invited  me  to  step  in 
and  see  his  father,  the  genuine  "  honest  Mateo,"  immortalized 
in  the  "  Tales  of  the  Alhambra."  The  old  man  has  taken  up 
the  trade  of  silk-weaving,  and  had  a  number  of  gay-colored 


122  THJS     LANDS     OF    THE     SARACEN. 

ribbons  on  his  loom.  He  is  more  than  sixty  years  old  and 
now  quite  gray-headed,  but  has  the  same  simple  manners,  the 
same  honest  face  that  attracted  his  temporary  master.  He 
spoke  with  great  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  Irving,  and  brought  out 
irom  a  place  of  safety  the  "Alhambra"  and  the  "Chronicles 
of  the  Conquest,"  which  he  has  carefully  preserved.  He  then 
produced  an  Andalusian  sash,  the  work  of  his  own  hands, 
which  he  insisted  on  binding  around  my  waist,  to  see  how  it 
would  look.  I  must  next  take  off  my  coat  and  hat,  and  put  on 
his  Sunday  jacket  and  jaunty  sombrero.  "Par  Dios !"  he 
exclaimed:  "que  buen  mozo !  Senor,  you  are  a  legitimate 
Andalusian  1"  After  this,  of  course,  1  could  do  no  less  thau 
buy  the  sash.  "You  must  show  it  to  Washington  Irving," 
said  he,  "  and  tell  him  it  was  made  by  Mateo's  own  hands  ;" 
which  I  promised.  I  must  then  go  into  the  kitchen,  and  eat  a 
pomegranate  from  his  garden — a  glorious  pomegranate,  with 
kernels  of  crimson,  and  so  full  of  blood  that  you  could  not 
touch  them  but  it  trickled  through  your  fingers.  El  Marques, 
a  sprightly  dog,  and  a  great  slate-colored  cat.  took  possession 
of  my  legs,  and  begged  for  a  share  of  every  mouthful  I  took, 
while  old  Mateo  sat  beside  me,  rejoicing  in  the  flavor  of  a 
Gibraltar  cigar  which  I  gave  him.  But  my  time  was  precious, 
and  so  1  let  the  "  Son  of  the  Alhambra  "  go  back  to  his  loom, 
and  set  out  for  the  Palace  of  the  Moorish  Kings. 

This  palace  is  so  hidden  behind  the  ambitious  shell  of  that 
of  Charles  V.  that  I  was  at  a  loss  where  it  could  be.  I 
thought  I  had  compassed  the  hill,  and  yet  had  seen  no  indica- 
tions of  the  renowned  magnificence  of  the  Alhambra.  But  a 
little  door  in  a  blank  wall  ushered  me  into  a  true  Moorish 
realm,  the  Coart  of  the  Fishpond,  or  of  the  Myrtles,  as  it  is 


THE     HALL     OF     LIONS.  423 

•ometimes  called.  Here  I  saw  again  the  slender  pillars,  the 
fringed  and  embroidered  arches,  and  the  perforated,  lace-like 
tracery  of  the  fairy  corridors.  Here,  hedges  of  roses  and  myr 
ties  still  bloomed  around  the  ancient  tank,  wherein  Aundreds  of 
gold-fish  disported.  The  noises  of  the  hill  do  not  penetrate 
here,  and  the  solitary  porter  who  admitted  me  went  back 
to  his  post,  and  suffered  me  to  wander  at  will  through  the 
enchanted  halls. 

I  passed  out  of  this  court  by  an  opposite  door,  and  saw, 
through  the  vistas  of  marble  pillars  and  the  wonderful  fret- 
work which  seems  a  thing  of  air  rather  than  of  earth,  the 
Fountain  of  the  Lions.  Thence  I  entered  in  succession  the 
Hall  of  the  Abencerrages,  the  Hall  of  the  Two  Sisters,  the 
apartments  of  the  Sultanas,  the  Mosque,  and  the  Hall  of  the 
Ambassadors.  These  places — all  that  is  left  of  the  renowned 
palace — are  now  well  kept,  and  carefully  guarded.  Restora- 
tions are  going  on,  here  and  there,  and  the  place  is  scrupu- 
lously watched,  that  no  foreign  Vandal  may  further  injure 
what  the  native  Goths  have  done  their  best  to  destroy.  The 
rubbish  has  been  cleared  away ;  the  rents  in  the  walls  have 
been  filled  up,  and,  for  the  first  time  since  it  passed  into 
Spanish  hands,  there  seems  a  hope  that  the  Alhambra  will  be 
allowed  to  stand.  What  has  been  already  destroyed  we  can 
only  partially  conjecture  ;  but  no  one  sees  what  remains  with- 
out completing  the  picture  in  his  own  imagination,  and  placing 
it  among  the  most  perfect  and  marvellous  creations  of  human 
genius. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  richness  of  invention  which,  La  thii 
series  of  halls,  corridors,  and  courts,  never  repeats  the  same  orna- 
ments but,  from  the  siin^kst  primitive  forms  and  colors, produces 


•124  THE     LANDS    Of    THE     SARACEN. 

a  thousand  combinations,  not  one  of  which  i?  m  discord  with  th< 
grand  design.  Jt  is  useless  to  attempt  a  detailed  description  of 
this  architecture  ;  and  it  is  so  unlike  anything  else  in  the  world 
that,  like  Karnak  and  Baalbec,  those  only  know  the  Alhambra 
who  see  it.  When  you  can  weave  stone,  and  hang  your  halls 
with  marble  tapestry,  you  may  rival  it.  It  is  nothing  to  me 
that  these  ornaments  are  stucco  ;  to  sculpture  them  in  marble 
is  only  the  work  of  the  hands.  Their  great  excellence  is  in  the 
design,  which,  like  all  great  things,  suggests  even  more  than  it 
gives.  If  I  could  create  all  that  the  Court  of  Lions  suggested 
to  me  for  its  completion,  it  would  fulfil  the  dream  of  King 
Sheddad,  and  surpass  the  palaces  of  the  Moslem  Paradise. 

The  pavilions  of  the  Court  of  Lions,  and  the  halls  which 
open  into  it,  on  either  side,  approach  the  nearest  to  their  origi- 
nal perfection.  The  floors  are  marble,  the  wainscoting  01 
painted  tiles,  the  walls  of  embroidery,  still  gleaming  with  the 
softened  lustre  of  their  oriyiual  tints,  and  the  lofty  conical 
domes  seem  to  be  huge  sparry  crystalizations,  hung  with  drop- 
ping stalactites,  rather  than  any  work  of  the  human  hand 
Each  of  these  domes  is  composed  of  five  thousand  separate 
pieces,  and  the  pendent  prismatic  blocks,  colored  and  gilded, 
gradually  resolve  themselves,  as  you  gaze,  into  the  most  intri- 
cate and  elegant  designs.  But  you  must  study  long  ere  you 
have  won  all  the  secret  of  their  beauty.  To  comprehend  them, 
one  should  spend  a  whole  day,  lying  on  his  hack,  under  each 
one.  Mateo  spread  his  cloak  for  me  in  the  fountain  in  the 
Hall  of  the  Abencerrages,  over  the  blood-stains  made  by  the 
decapitation  of  those  gallant  dm-fs,  and  I  lay  half  an  hoot 
looking  upward  •.  •ind  this  is  what  I  made  out  of  the  dome 
From  its  centra  pinnacle  hung  the  chalice  of  a  flower  will 


THK    1UBVELLOUS    DOMES.  425 

leathery  petals,  like  the  "crape  myrtle"  of  our  Southern  States 
Outside  of  this,  branched  downward  the  eight  rays  of  a  large 
star,  whose  points  touched  the  base  of  the  dome  ;  yet  the  star 
was  itself  composed  of  flowers,  while  between  its  rays  and 
around  its  points  fell  a  shower  of  blossoms,  shells,  and  sparr* 
drops.  From  the  base  of  the  dome  hung  a  gorgeous  pattern 
of  lace,  with  a  fringe  of  bugles,  projecting  into  eight  points  so 
as  to  form  a  star  of  drapery,  hanging  from  the  points  of  the 
flowery  star  in  the  dome.  The  spaces  between  the  angles  were 
filled  with  masses  of  stalactites,  dropping  one  below  the  other, 
till  they  tapered  into  the  plain  square  sides  of  the  hall. 

In  the  Hall  of  the  Two  Sisters,  I  lay  likewise  for  a  coiy 
siderable  time,  resolving  its  misty  glories  into  shape.  The 
dome  was  still  more  suggestive  of  flowers.  The  highest  and 
central  piece  was  a  deep  trumpet-flower,  whose  mouth  was 
cleft  into  eight  petals.  It  hung  in  the  centre  of  a  superb 
lotus-cup,  the  leaves  of  which  were  exquisitely  veined  and 
chased.  Still  further  below  swung  a  mass  of  mimosa  blossoms, 
intermixed  with  pods  and  lance-like  leaves,  and  around  the 
base  of  the  dome  opened  the  bells  of  sixteen  gorgeous  tulips. 
These  pictures  may  not  be  very  intelligible,  but  I  know  not 
how  else  to  paint  the  effect  of  this  fairy  architecture. 

In  Granada,  as  in  Seville  and  Cordova,  one's  sympathies  are 
wholly  with  the  Moors.  The  few  mutilated  traces  which  still 
remain  of  their  power,  taste,  and  refinement,  surpass  any  of  the 
monuments  erected  by  the  race  which  conquered  them.  The 
Moorish  Dynasty  in  Spain  was  truly,  as  Irving  observes,  a 
splendid  exotic,  doomed  never  to  take  a  lasting  root  in  the  soil 
It  was  choked  to  death  by  the  native  weeds  ;  and,  in  place  of 
,amfe  richly  cultivated  and  teeming  with  plenty,  \vo  now  hav« 


426  rflK    LANDS    OF    THE    SAKA.CEN 

barren  and  almost  depopulated  wastes — in  place  of  education, 
industry,  and  the  cultivation  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  ae 
enslaved,  ignorant  and  degenerate  race.  Andalusia  would  b€ 
far  more  prosperous  at  this  day,  bad  she  remained  in  Moslem 
ban  is.  True,  she  would  not  have  received  that  Faith  which 
is  yet  destined  to  be  the  redemption  of  the  world,  but  the  doc- 
trines of  Mahomet  are  more  acceptable  to  God,  and  more 
beneficial  to  Man  than  those  of  that  Inquisition,  which,  in 
Spain  alone,  has  shed  ten  times  as  much  Christian  blood  as  all 
the  Moslem  races  together  for  the  last  six  centuries.  It  is  not 
from  a  mere  romantic  interest  that  I  lament  the  fate  of  Boab- 
dil,  and  the  extinction  of  his  dynasty.  Had  he  been  a  king 
worthy  to  reign  in  those  wonderful  halls,  he  never  would  have 
left  them.  Had  he  perished  there,  fighting  to  the  last,  he 
would  have  been  freed  from  forty  years  of  weary  exile  and  ac 
obscure  death.  Well  did  Charles  V.  observe,  when  speaking 
of  him  :  "  Better  a  tomb  in  the  Alhambra  than  a  palace  in  the 
/ilpujar.as  1" 


CHANGE     Ot     WEATHKI. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE     BRIDLE-ROADS     OF     ANDALUSIA. 


ea.her  —  Napoleon  and  his  Horses  —  Departure  from  Granada—  My  Guide, 
arcia  —  His  Domestic  Troubles  —  The  Tragedy  of  the  Umbrella  —  The  Vow  agalnts 
Aguardiente  —  Crassing  the  Vega—  The  Sierra  Nevada—  The  Baths  of  Alhama—  "  Wof 
is  Me,  Alhama  I"  —  The  Valley  of  the  River  Veles—  Veles  Malaga  —  The  Coast  Road— 
The  Fisherman  and  his  Donkey  —  Malaga  —  Summer  Scenery  —  The  Story  of  Don  Pedro, 
without  Fear  and  without  Care  —  The  Field  of  Monda  —  A  Lonely  Venta. 

VKNTA  DK  VILLALOH,  November  90,  1852. 

THE  clouds  broke  away  before  I  had  been  two  hoars  in  the 
Alhambra,  and  the  sunshine  fell  broad  and  warm  into  its 
courts.  They  must  be  roofed  with  blue  sky,  in  order  to  give 
the  fall  impression  of  their  brightness  and  beaaty.  Matec 
procured  me  a  bottle  of  vino  rando,  and  we  drank  it  together 
in  the  Court  of  Lions.  Six  hours  had  passed  away  before  I 
knew  it,  and  I  reluctantly  prepared  to  leave.  The  clouds  by 
this  time  had  disappeared  ;  the  Vega  slept  in  brilliant  sunshine, 
and  the  peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  shone  white  and  colt' 
against  the  sky. 

On  reaching  the  hotel,  I  found  a  little  man,  nicknamed 
Napoleon,  awaiting  me.  He  was  desirous  to  furnish  me  with 
horses,  and,  having  a  prophetic  knowledge  of  the  weather, 
promised  me  a  bright  sky  as  far  as  Gibraltar.  "  T  furnish  a  I' 
the  senors,"  said  he  ;  "they  know  me,  and  never  complain  of 


428  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SAKACEN. 

me  or  iny  horses  ;"  but,  by  way  of  security,  on  making  the  bar 
gain,  I  threatened  to  put  up  a  card  in  the  hotel  at  Gibraltar 
warning  all  travellers  against  him,  in  case  I  was  not  satisfied 
My  contract  was  for  two  horses  and  a  guide,  who  were  to  be 
ready  at  sunrise  the  next  morning.     Napoleon  was  as  good  as 
his  word  ;  and  before  I  had  finished  an  early  cup  of  chocolate, 
there  was  a  little  black  Audalusiau  stallion  awaiting  me.     The 
alforjas,  or  saddle-bags,  of  the  guide  were  strengthened  by 
stock  of  cold  provisions,  the  leathern  bota  hanging  beside  it 
was  filled  with  ripe  Granada  wine  ;  and  now  behold  me  ambling 
over  the  Vega,  accoutred  in  a  gay  Andalusian  jacket,  a  sash 
woven  by  Mateo  Ximeues,  and  one  of  those  bandboxy  som- 
breros, which  I  at  first  thought  so  ungainly,  but  now  cousidei 
quite  picturesque  and  elegant. 

My  guide,  a  short  but  sinewy  and  well-knit  son  of  the  moun- 
tains, named  Jos6  Garcia,  set  off  at  a  canter  down  the  banks 
of  the  Darro.  "  Don't  ride  so  fast  I"  cried  Napoleon,  whc 
watched  our  setting  out,  from  the  door  of  the  fonda  ;  but 
Jose  was  already  out  of  hearing.  This  guide  is  a  companion 
to  my  liking.  Although  he  is  only  twenty-seven,  be  has  been 
for  a  number  of  years  a  correo,  or  mail-rider,  and  a  guide  for 
travelling  parties.  His  olive  complexion  is  made  still  darker 
oy  exposure  to  the  sun  and  wind,  and  his  coal-black  eyes  shine 
with  Southern  heat  and  fire.  He  has  one  of  those  rare  mouths 
which  are  born  with  a  broad  smile  in  each  corner,  and  whici. 
seem  to  laugh  even  in  the  midst  of  grief.  We  had  not  been 
two  hours  together,  before  I  knew  his  history  from  beginning 
to  end.  He  had  already  been  married  eight  years,  and  his 
only  trouble  was  a  debt  of  twenty-four  dollars  which  the  illnese 
of  his  wife  had  caused  him.  This  rnoirey  was  owing  to  the 


THE     TRAGEDY     OF    THE     UMBRELLA.  42S 

pawnbroker,  who  kept  his  best  clothes  in  pledge  until  he  could 
pay  it.  "Senor,"  said  he,  "it  I  had  ten  million  dollars,  1 
would  rather  give  them  all  away  than  have  a  sick  wife."  He 
had  a  brother  in  Puerto  Principe,  Cuba,  who  sent  over  mone) 
enough  to  pay  the  rent  of  the  house,  but  he  found  that  child 
ren  were  a  great  expense.  "  It  is  most  astonishing,"  he  said, 
"  how  much  children  can  eat.  From  morning  till  night,  the 
bread  is  never  out  of  their  mouths." 

Jose  has  recently  been  travelling  with  some  Spaniards,  one 
of  whom  made  him  pay  two  dollars  for  an  umbrella  which  was 
lost  on  the  road.  This  umbrella  is  a  thorn  in  his  side.  At 
every  venta  where  we  stop,  the  story  is  repeated,  and  he  is  not 
sparing  of  his  maledictions.  The  ghost  of  that  umbrella  is 
continually  raised,  and  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  he  can  shut 
it.  "  One  reason  why  I  like  to  travel  with  foreign  Senors,'< 
said  he  to  me,  "  is,  that  when  I  lose  anything,  they  never  make 
me  pay  for  it."  "  For  all  that,"  I  answered,  "  take  care  you 
don't  lose  my  umbrella  :  it  cost  three  dollars."  Since  then, 
nothing  can  exceed  Jose's  attention  to  that  article.  He  is  at 
his  wit's  end  how  to  secure  it  best.  It  appears  sometimes 
before,  sometimes  behind  him,  lashed  to  the  saddle  with  innu- 
merable cords ;  now  he  sticks  it  into  the  alforja,  now  carries 
it  in  his  hand,  and  I  verily  believe  that  he  sleeps  with  it  in  his 
arms.  Every  evening,  as  he  tells  his  story  to  the  muleteers, 
around  the  kitchen  fire,  he  always  winds  up  by  triumphantly 
appealing  to  me  with  :  "Well,  Senor,  have  I  lost  yowr  umbrella 
yet  ?" 

Our  bargain  is  that  I  shall  feed  him  on  the  way,  and  as  we 
travel  in  the  primitive  style  of  the  country,  we  always  sit  dowc 
together  to  the  same  dish.  To  his  supervision,  the  olla  i& 


130  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SAUACK.N 

often  indebted  for  an  additional  flavor,  and  no  "  thorough-bred  •' 
gentleman  could  behave  at  table  with  more  ease  and  propriety 
He  is  as  moderate  as  a  Bedouin  in  his  wants,  and  never  touches 
the  burning  aguardiente  which  the  muleteers  are  accustomed 
to  drink.  I  asked  him  the  reason  of  this.  "  I  drink  wine 
Seiior,"  he  replied,  "  because  that,  you  know,  is  like  meat  and 
bread  ;  but  I  have  made  a  vow  never  to  drink  aguardiente 
again.  Two  of  us  got  drunk  on  it,  four  or  five  years  ago,  in 
Granada,  and  we  quarrelled.  My  comrade  drew  his  knife  and 
stabbed  me  here,  in  the  left  shoulder  I  was  furious  and  cut 
him  across  the  breast.  We  both  went  to  the  hospital — I  for 
three  months  and  he  for  six — and  he  died  in  a  few  days  aftei 
getting  out.  It  cost  my  poor  father  many  a  thousand  reals  ; 
and  when  I  was  able  to  go  to  work,  I  vowed  before  the  Virgiu 
that  I  would  never  touch  aguardiente  again." 

For  the  first  league,  our  road  lay  over  the  rich  Vega  of 
Granada,  but  gradually  became  wilder  and  more  waste.  Pass- 
ing the  long,  desert  ridge,  known  as  the  "  Last  Sigh  of  the 
Moor,"  we  struck  across  a  region  of  low  hills.  The  road  was 
very  deep,  from  the  recent  rains,  and  studded,  at  short  inter- 
vals, by  rude  crosses,  erected  to  persons  who  had  been  mur- 
dered. Jose  took  a  grim  delight  in  giving  me  the  history  of 
each.  Beyond  the  village  of  Lamala,  which  lies  with  its  salt- 
pans in  a  basin  of  the  hills,  we  ascended  the  mountain  ridge 
which  forms  the  southern  boundary  of  the  Vega.  Granada, 
nearly  twenty  miles  distant,  was  still  visible.  The  Alhambra 
was  dwindled  to  a  speck,  and  I  took  my  last  view  of  it  and  the 
magnificent  landscape  which  lies  spread  out  before  it.  The 
Bierra  Nevada,  rising  to  the  height  of  13,000  feet  above  the 
sea,  was  perfectly  free  from  clouds,  and  the  whole  range  wai 


THE    GORGE    OF    ALHAMA.  4O1 

visible  at  one  glauce.  All  its  chasms  were  filled  with  siiow 
and  for  nearly  half-way  down  its  sides  there  was  not  a  spoeh 
of  any  other  color.  Its  summits  were  almost  wholly  devoid 
of  shadow,  and  their  notched  and  jagged  outlines  rested 
flatly  against  the  sky,  like  ivory  inlaid  on  a  table  of  l.apis- 
lazuli. 

From  these  waste  hills,  we  descended  into  the  valley  ot 
Cacia,  whose  poplar-fringed  river  had  been  so  swollen  by  the 
rains  that  the  correo  from  Malaga  had  only  succeeded  in  pass- 
ing it  that  morning.  We  forded  it  without  accident,  and, 
crossing  a  loftier  and  bleaker  range,  came  down  into  the  valley 
of  the  Marchan.  High  on  a  cliff  over  the  stream  stood 
Alhama,  my  resting-place  for  the  night.  The  natural  warm 
baths,  on  account  of  which  this  spot  was  so  beloved  by  the 
Moors,  are  still  resorted  to  in  the  summer.  They  lie  in  the 
bosom  of  a  deep  and  rugged  gorge,  half  a  mile  further  down 
the  river.  The  town  occupies  the  crest  of  a  narrow  promon- 
tory, bounded,  on  all  sides  but  one,  by  tremendous  precipices. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  spots  imaginable,  and 
reminded  me — to  continue  the  comparison  between  Syria  and 
Andalusia,  which  I  find  so  striking — of  the  gorge  of  the  Bar- 
rada,  near  Damascus.  Alhama  is  now  a  poor,  insignificant 
town,  only  visited  by  artists  and  muleteers.  The  population 
wear  long  brown  cloaks  and  slouched  hats,  like  the  natives  of 
La  Mancha. 

I  found  tolerable  quarters  in  a  house  on  the  plaza,  and  took 
the  remaining  hour  of  daylight  to  view  the  town.  The  people 
looked  at  me  with  curiosity,  and  some  boys,  walking  on  the 
edge  of  the  tajo,  or  precipice,  threw  over  stones  that  I  might 
me  how  deep  it  was.  The  rock,  in  some  places,  quite  over 


432  THE     iiAXDS     OF    THE     SARACEN. 

hung  the  'ed  of  the  Marchan,  which  half-girdles  its  base.  The 
close  scru  iny  to  which  I  was  subjected  by  the  crowd  in  the 
plaza  called  to  mind  all  I  had  heard  of  Spanish  spies  and  rob 
bers.  At  the  venta,  I  was  well  treated,  but  received  such  an 
exorbitant  bill  in  the  morning  that  I  was  ready  to  exclaim, 
with  King  Boabdil,  "  Woe  is  me,  Alhama  1"  Ou  comparing 
notes  with  Jose,  I  found  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  pay,  in 
addition,  for  what  he  received — a  discovery  which  so  exaspe- 
rated that  worthy  that  he  folded  his  hands,  bowed  his  head, 
made  three  kisses  in  the  air,  and  cried  out :  "I  swear  before 
the  Virgin  that  I  will  never  again  take  a  traveller  to  that 
inn." 

We  left  Alhama  an  hour  before  daybreak,  for  we  had  8 
rough  journey  of  more  than  forty  miles  before  us.  The  bridle 
path  was  barely  visible  in  the  darkness,  but  we  continued 
ascending  to  a  height  of  probably  5,000  feet  above  the  sea, 
and  thus  met  the  sunrise  half-way.  Crossing  the  llano  of  Ace 
faraya,  we  reached  a  tremendous  natural  portal  in  the  moun 
tains,  from  whence,  as  from  a  door,  we  looked  down  on  all  the 
country  lying  between  us  and  the  sea.  The  valley  of  the 
River  Velez,  winding  among  the  hills,  pointed  out  the  course 
of  our  road.  On  the  left  towered  over  us  the  barren  Sierra 
Tejeda,  an  isolated  group  of  peaks,  about  8,000  feet  in  height. 
For  miles,  the  road  was  a  rocky  ladder,  which  we  scrambled 
down  on  foot,  leading  our  horses.  The  vegetation  gradually 
became  of  a  warmer  and  more  luxuriant  cast ;  the  southern 
slopes  were  planted  with  the  vine  that  produces  the  fainoui 
Malaga  raisins,  and  the  orange  groves  in  the  sunny  depths  of 
the  valleys  were  as  yellow  as  autumnal  beeches,  with  tbeii 
enormous  loads  of  fruit.  As  the  bells  of  Veloz  Malaga  wew 


THK     INN     AT     VELK2     MALAGA. 


ringing  uoou,  we  emerged  from  the  mountains,  near  the  moath 
of  the  river,  and  rode  into  the  town  to  breakfast. 

We  halted  at  a  queer  old  inn,  more  like  a  Turkish  khan 
than  a  Christian  hostlery.  It  was  kept  by  a  fat  landlady,  who 
made  us  an  olla  of  kid  and  garlic,  which,  with  some  coarse 
bread  and  tte  red  Malaga  wine,  soon  took  off  the  sharp  edge 
of  our  mouctaiu  appetites.  While  I  was  washing  my  hauds 
at  a  well  in  the  court-yard,  the  mozo  noticed  the  pilgrim-seal 
of  Jerusalem,  which  is  stamped  indelibly  on  my  left  arm.  His 
admiration  and  reverence  were  so  great  that  he.  called  the  fat 
landlady,  who,  on  learning  that  it  had  been  made  in  Jerusalem, 
md  that  I  had  visited  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  summoned  her  chil- 
dren to  see  it.  "  Here,  my  children  1"  she  said  ;  "  cross  your 
selves,  kneel  down,  and  kiss  this  holy  seal  ;  for,  as  long  as  you 
live,  you  may  never  see  the  like  of  it  again."  Thus  I,  a  Pro- 
testant heretic,  became  a  Catholic  shrine.  The  children  knelt 
and  kissed  my  arm  with  touching  simplicity  ;  and  the  seal  will 
heuceforth  be  more  sacred  to  me  than  ever. 

The  remaining  twenty  miles  or  more  of  the  road  to  Malaga 
follow  the  line  of  the  coast,  passing  headlands  crowned  by  the 
atulayas,  or  watch-towers,  of  the  Moors.  It  is  a  new  road,  and 
practicable  for  carriages,  so  that,  for  Spain,  it  may  be  con 
sidered  an  important  achievement.  The  late  rains  have,  how 
ever,  already  undermined  it  in  a  number  of  places.  Here,  a& 
among  the  mountains,  we  met  crowds  of  muleteers,  all  of  whom 
greeted  me  with:  "Vaya  usted  con  Dios,  caballerof"  —  ("May 
you  go  with  God,  cavalier  1")  By  this  time,  all  my  forgotten 
Spanish  had  come  back  again,  and  a  little  experience  of  the 
simple  ways  of  the  people  made  me  quite  at  home  among  them. 
In  almost  every  instance,  I  was  treated  precisely  as  a  Spaniard 

19 


434  THE     ULXDS     OK     THE     bAKACKN 

would  have  been,  and  less  annoyed  by  the  curiosity  of  the 
natives  than  I  have  been  in  Germany,  and  even  America 

We  were  still  two  leagues  from  Malaga,  at  sunset.  The 
fishermen  along  the  coast  were  hauling  in  their  nets,  and  wo 
soon  began  to  overtake  companies  of  them,  carrying  their  fish 
to  the  city  on  donkeys.  One  stout,  strapping  fellow,  with 
flesh  as  hard  and  yellow  as  a  sturgeon's,  was  seated  sideways 
on  a  very  small  donkey,  between  two  immense  panniers  of  fish 
As  he  trotted  before  us,  shouting,  and  slapping  the  flanks  of 
the  sturdy  little  beast,  Jose  and  I  began  to  laugh,  whereupon 
the  fellow  broke  out  into  the  following  monologue,  addressed 
to  the  donkey :  "Who  laughs  at  this  burrico  (.  Who  say- 
not  fine  gold  from  head  to  foot  ?  What  is  it  that  he  can't  do  I 
If  there  was  a  mountain  ever  so  high,  he  would  gallop  over  it 
If  there  was  a  river  ever  so  deep,  he  would  swim  through  it 
If  he  could  but  speak,  I  might  send  him  to  market  alone  wit  I) 
the  fish,  and  not  a  chavo  of  the  money  would  he  spend  on  the 
way  home.  Who  says  he  can't  go  as  far  as  that  limping 
horse  ?  Arrrre,  burrico  !  punate — ar-r-r-r-r-e-e  !" 

We  reached  Malaga,  at  last,  our  horses  sorely  fagged.  At 
the  Fonda  de  la  Alameda,  a  new  and  very  elegant  hotel,  1 
found  a  bath  and  a  good  dinner,  both  welcome  things  to  a  tired 
traveller.  The  winter  of  Malaga  is  like  spring  in  other  lands 
and  on  that  account  it  is  much  visited  by  invalids,  especially 
English.  It  is  a  lively  commercial  town  of  'about  80,000 
inhabitants,  and,  if  the  present  scheme  of  railroad  comraunica 
tion  with  Madrid  is  carried  out,  must  continue  to  increase  in 
size  and  importance.  A  number  of  manufacturing  establishment! 
have  lately  been  started,  and  in  this  department  it  bids  fair  to 
rival  Barcelona.  The  harbor  is  small,  but  good,  and  the 


LEAVING   MALAGA.  436 

Country  aroarid  rich  in  all  the  productions  of  temperate  and 
even  tropical  climates.  The  city  contains  little  to  interest  the 
tourist.  I  visited  the  Cathedral,  an  immense  unfinished  mass, 
without  a  particle  of  architectural  taste  outwardly,  though  the 
interior  has  a  fine  effect  from  its  large  dimensions. 

At  noon  to-day,  we  were  again  in  the  saddle,  and  took  the 
road  to  the  Baths  of  Caratraca.  The  tall  factory  chimneys  of 
Malaga,  vomiting  forth  streams  of  black  smoke,  marred  tht 
serenity  of  the  sky ;  but  the  distant  view  of  the  city  is  very 
fine.  The  broad  Vega,  watered  by  the  Guadaljorce,  is  rich  and 
well  cultivated,  and  now  rejoices  in  the  verdure  of  spring. 
T'iie  meadows  are  clothed  with  fresh  grass,  butter-cups  and 
uai-irs  are  in  biossom,  and  larks  sing  in  the  olive-trees.  Now 
and  then,  we  passed  a  casa  del  campo,  with  its  front  half  buried 
in  orange-trees,  over  which  towered  two  or  three  sentinel 
palms.  After  two  leagues  of  this  delightful  travel,  the  coun- 
try became  more  hilly,  ana  the  groups  of  mountains  which 
inclosed  us  assumed  the  :i?ost  picturesque  and  enchanting 
forms.  The  soft  haze  in  which  the  distant  peaks  were  bathed, 
the  lovely  violet  shadows  filling  up  their  chasms  and  gorges, 
and  the  fresh  meadows,  vineyards,  and  olive  groves  below, 
made  the  landscape  one  of  the  most  beautiful  I  have  seen  in 
Spain 

As  we  were  trotting  along  through  the  palmetto  thickets, 
Jose  asked  me  if  I  should  not  like  to  hear  an  Andalusian  story. 
"  Nothing  would  please  me  better,"  I  replied.  "  Ride  close 
beside  me,  then,"  said  he,  "  that  you  may  understand  every 
word  of  it."  I  complied,  and  he  gave  me  the  following,  jast 
as  1  repeat  it :  "  There  was  once  a  very  rich  man,  who  hoc 
thousands  of  cattle  in  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  hundred*  of 


436  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

houses  iu  the  city.  Well :  this  man  put  a  plate,  with  his  nanx 
ou  it,  on  the  door  of  the  great  house  in  which  he  lived,  and 
the  name  was  this  :  Don  Pedro,  without  Fear  aud  without 
Care.  Now,  when  the  King  was  making  his  paseo,  he  hap^ 
(tened  to  ride  by  this  house  in  his  carriage,  and  saw  the  plate 
on  the  door.  '  Read  me  the  name  on  that  plate  !'  said  he  to 
his  officer.  Then  the  officer  read  the  name  :  Don  Pedro,  with- 
out Fear  and  without  Care.  '  I  will  see  whether  Don  Pedro 
is  without  Fear  aud  without  Care,'  said  the  King.  The  next 
day  came  a  messenger  to  the  house,  and,  when  he  saw  Don 
Pedro,  said  he  to  him  ;  '  Don  Pedro,  without  Fear  and  without 
Care,  the  King  wants  you  !'  '  What  does  the  King  want  with 
me  ?'  said  Don  Pedro.  '  He  sends  you  four  questions  which 
you  must  answer  within  four  days,  or  he  will  have  you  shot  ; 
ind  the  questions  are  : — How  can  the  Sierra  Nevada  be  cleared 
rf  snow  ?  How  can  the  sea  be  made  smaller  ?  How  many 
arrobas  does  the  nuon  weigh  ?  And  :  How  many  leagues 
from  here  to  the  Land  of  Heavenly  Glory  ?'  Then  Don  Pedro 
without  Fear  aud  without  Care  began  to  sweat  from  fright, 
and  knew  not  what  he  should  do.  He  called  some  of  his  arrie- 
ros  and  loaded  twenty  mules  with  money,  and  went  up  into  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  where  his  herdsm^j  tended  his  flocks  ;  for,  as 
I  said,  he  had  many  thousand  cattle.  '  God  keep  you,  my 
master  1'  said  the  chief  herdsman,  who  was  young,  and  Ituon 
<nozo,  and  had  as  good  a  head  as  ever  was  set  on  two  shoulders. 
'Anda,  hombre?  said  Don  Pedro,  '  I  am  a  dead  man  ;'  and  so  he 
told  the  herdsman  all  that  the  King  had  said.  '  Oh,  is  that 
all  ?'  said  the  knowing  mozo.  '  I  can  get  you  out  of  tin 
scrape.  Let  me  go  and  answer  the  questions  in  your  name,  m)1 
master  !'  'Ah,  you  fool  1  what  can  you  do  ?'  said  Don  Pedw 


DON     I'KDKU    WITMOfl     FKAK    AND    WITHOUT    CARE.          43f 

nithout  Fear  and  without  Care,  throwing  himself  upon  the 
earth,  and  ready  to  die. 

"  But,  nevertheless,  the  herdsman  dressed  himself  up  as  a 
cabalkro,  weut  clown  to  the  city,  aud,  on  the  fourth  day,  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  King's  palace.  '  What  do  you  want  ? 
said  the  officers.  '  I  am  Don  Pedro  without  Fear  aud  without 
Care,  come  to  answer  the  questions  which  the  King  sent  to  me. 
'Well,'  said  the  King,  when  he  was  brought  before  him,  'let 
me  hear  your  answers,  or  I  will  have  you  shot  this  day.1 
1  Your  Majesty,'  said  the  herdsman,  '  I  think  I  can  do  it.  If 
you  w  ere  to  set  a  million  of  children  to  playing  among  the 
snow  or  the  Sierra  Nevada,  they  would  soon  clear  it  all  away  ; 
aud  ii  you  were  to  dig  a  ditch  as  wide  and  as  deep  as  all 
Spain,  you  would  make  the  sea  that  much  smaller.'  '  Bat,' 
said  tiie  King,  '  that  makes  only  two  questions  ;  there  are  two 
more  yet.'  '  I  think  I  can  answer  those,  also,'  said  the  herds- 
man :  '  the  moon  contains  four  quarters,  and  therefore  weighs 
only  oue  arroba  ;  aud  as  for  the  last  question,  it  is  not  even  a 
single  league  to  the  Land  of  Heavenly  Glory — for,  if  your 
Majesty  were  to  die  after  breakfast,  you  would  get  there  before 
you  had  an  appetite  for  dinner.'  '  Well  done  1'  said  the  King  ; 
and  he  then  made  him  Count,  and  Marquez,  and  I  don't  know 
how  many  other  titles.  In  the  meantime,  Don  Pedro  without 
Fear  and  without  Care  had  died  of  his  fright ;  and,  as  he  left 
no  family,  the  herdsman  took  possession  of  all  his  estates,  and, 
until  the  day  of  his  death,  was  called  Don  Pedro  without  Feal 
and  without  Care  " 

I  write,  sitting  by  the  grated  window  of  this  lonely  inn, 
looking  out  on  the  meadows  of  the  Gimdaljorce.  The  chain 
•tf  mountains  which  rises  to  the  \V«M  of  Malaga  is  purpled  by 


138  THfi  LANDS  OF  1HE  SARACEN. 

the  light  of  the  setting  sun,  and  the  houses  and  Castle  of  Cai 
taiua  hang  on  its  side,  in  full  view.  Further  to  the  right,  I  sec 
the  smoke  of  Momla,  where  one  of  the  greatest  battles  of  anti- 
quity was  fought — tli at  which  overthrew  the  sons  of  1'onipey 
and  gave  the  Roman  Empire  to  Caesar.  The  rnozo  of  tht 
venta  is  busy,  preparing  my  kid  and  rice,  and  Jose  is  at  hii 
elbow,  gently  suggesting  ingredients  which  may  give  the  dish 
a  richer  flavor.  The  landscape  is  softened  by  the  hush  of 
coming  evening ;  a  few  birds  are  still  twittering  among  the 
bushes,  and  the  half-moon  grows  whiter  and  clearer  in  mid- 
heaven.  The  people  about  me  are  humble,  but  appear  h<  nest 
and  peaceful,  and  nothing  indicates  that  I  am  in  the  wi'd  Ser- 
rania  df  Ronda,  the  country  of  robbers,  ccntrab*  ndislis,  and 


ORANGE     VALLEYS  489 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE     MOUNTAINS     OF     RONDA. 

Orange  Val!?ys  — Climbing  the  Mountains — Jos6's  Hospitality — El  Burgo — The  Gate  01 
the  Wind — Tie  Cliff  and  Cascades  of  Ronda— The  Mountain  Region — Traces  of  th« 
Moors — Haunts  of  Robbers — A  Stormy  Ride — The  Inn  at  Gaucin — Bad  News-  -A 
Boyish  Auxiliary— Descent  from  the  Mountains — The  Ford  of  the  Guadiaro — Oui 
Pears  Relieved— The  Cork  Woods— Ride  from  San  Roque  to  Gibraltar— Parting  witt 
Jose— Travelling  in  Spain — Conclusion. 

GIBRALTAR,  Thursday,  November  25, 1862. 

I  PASSED  an  uncomfortable  night  at  the  Venta  de  Villalou, 
lying  upon  a  bag  stuffed  with  equal  quantities  of  wool  and 
fleas.  Starting  before  dawn,  we  followed  a  path  which  led 
into  the  mountains,  where  herdsmen  and  boys  were  taking  out 
their  sheep  and  goats  to  pasture  ;  then  it  descended  into  the 
valley  of  a  stream,  bordered  with  rich  bottom-lands.  I  never 
saw  the  orange  in  a  more  nourishing  state.  We  passed  several 
orchards  of  trees  thirty  feet  high,  and  every  bough  and  twig 
BO  completely  laden  with  fruit,  that  the  foliage  was  hardly  to 
be  seen. 

At  the  Veuta  del  Vicario,  we  found  a  number  of  soldiers 
just  setting  out  for  Rouda.  They  appeared  to  be  escorting  a 
convoy  of  goods,  for  there  wen:  twenty  or  thirty  laden  mules 
gathered  at  the  door.  We  now  ascended  a  most  difficult  and 
Btony  path,  winding  through  bleak  wastes  of  gray  rock,  till  we 


440  THE     LANDS     OF    THE     ^ 

reached  a  lofty  pass  in  the  mountain  range  The  wind  swep* 
through  the  narrow  gateway  with  a  force  that  almost  unhorsed 
as.  From  the  other  side,  a  sublime  but  most  desolate  land- 
scape opened  to  my  view.  Opposite,  at  ten  miles'  distance 
rose  a  lofty  ridge  of  naked  rock,  overhung  with  clouds.  Tht 
country  between  was  a  chaotic  jumble  of  stony  hills,  separated 
by  deep  chasms,  with  just  a  green  patch  here  and  there,  to 
show  that  it  was  not  entirely  forsaken  by  man.  Nevertheless 
as  we  descended  into  it,  we  found  valleys  with  vineyards  and 
olive  groves,  which  were  invisible  from  above.  As  we  were  both 
getting  hungry,  Jose  stopped  at  a  ventorillo  and  ordered  two 
eups  of  wine,  for  which  he  insisted  on  paying.  "  If  I  had  ah 
many  horses  as  my  master,  Napoleon,"  said  he,  "  I  would 
regale  the  Senors  whenever  I  travelled  with  them.  I  wou'd 
have  puros,  and  sweetmeats,  with  plenty  of  Malaga  or  Yalde 
penas  in  the  bota,  and  they  should  never  complain  of  theu 
fare."  Part  of  our  road  was  studded  with  gray  cork-trees,  at 
a  distance  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  olives,  and  Jos-e  di.*- 
mounted  to  gather  the  mast,  which  was  as  sweet  and  palatable 
as  chestnuts,  with  very  little  of  the  bitter  querciue  flavor.  At 
eleven  o'clock,  we  reached  El  Bnrgo,  so  called,  probably,  fr.im 
its  ancient  Moorish  fortress.  It  is  a  poor,  starved  vilh.^e, 
built  on  a  barren  hill,  over  a  stream  which  is  still  spataed 
by  a  lofty  Moorish  bridge  ot  a  single  arch. 

The  remaining  three  leagues  to  Rouda  were  exceedingly 
rcagh  aad  difficult  Climbing  a  barren  ascent  of  nearly  a 
league  in  length,  we  reached  the  Puerto  del  'Viento,  jr  Gate  of 
the  Wind,  through  which  drove  such  a  current  that  we  were 
obliged  to  dismount ;  and  even  then  it  required  all  my  strength 
to  move  against  it.  The  peaks  around,  far  and  near,  faced 


THE    CHASM    OF     RONDA.  441 

«rith  precipitous  cliffs,  wore  the  most  savage  and  foihidding 
aspect :  in  fact,  this  region  is  almost  a  counterpart  of  the 
wilderness  lying  between  Jerusalem  and  the  Dead  Sea.  Very 
soon,  we  touched  the  skirt  of  a  cloud,  and  were  enveloped  ir 
masses  of  chill,  whirling  vapor,  through  which  we  travelled  for 
three  or  four  miles  to  a  similar  gate  on  the  western  side  of  the 
chain.  Descending  again,  we  emerged  into  a  clearer  atmo- 
sphere, and  saw  below  us  a  wide  extent  of  mountain  country, 
but  of  a  more  fertile  and  cheerful  character.  Olive  orchards 
and  wheat-fields  now  appeared  ;  and,  at  four  o'clock,  we  rode 
into  the  streets  of  Ronda. 

No  town  can  surpass  this  in  the  grandeur  and  picturesque- 
ness  of  its  position  It  is  built  on  the  edge  of  a  broad  shelf 
of  the  mountains,  which  falls  away  in  a  sheer  precipice  of  from 
six  to  eight  hundred  feet  in  height,  and,  from  the  windows  of 
many  of  the  houses  you  can  look  down  the  dizzy  abyss.  This 
shelf,  again,  is  divided  in  the  centre  by  a  tremendous  chasm, 
three  hundred  feet  wide,  and  from  four  to  six  hundred  feet  in 
depth,  in  the  bed  of  which  roars  the  Guadalvin,  boiling  in  foam- 
ing whirlpools  or  leaping  in  sparkling  cascades,  till  it  reaches  the 
valley  below.  The  town  lies  on  both  sides  of  the  chasm,  which 
is  spanned  by  a  stone  bridge  of  a  single  arch,  with  abutments 
nearly  four  hundred  feet  in  height.  The  view  of  this  wonder- 
ful cleft,  cither  from  above  or  below,  is  one  of  the  finest  of  its 
kind  in  the  world.  Ronda  is  as  far  superior  to  Tivoli,  as  Tivol 
is  to  a  Dutch  village,  on  the  dead  levels  of  Holland.  The 
panorama  which  it  commands  is  on  the  grandest  scale.  The 
valley  below  is  a  garden  of  fruit  and  vines  ;  bold  yet  cultivated 
hills  succeed,  and  in  the  distance  rise  the  lofty  summits  of 
another  chain  of  the  Serrania  de  Ronda.  Were  these  sublime 

1Q* 


442  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN 

Miffs,  these  charming  cascades  of  the  Guadalvin,  and  this  daring 
bridge,  in  Italy  instead  of  in  Spain,  they  would  be  sketched 
and  painted  every  day  in  the  year  ;  but  I  have  yet  to  kno« 
*-h«e  a  good  picture  of  Ronda  may  be  found 

In  the  bottom  of  the  chasm  are  a  number  of  corn-mills  aa 
old  as  the  time  of  the  Moors.  The  water,  gushing  out  from 
the  arches  of  one,  drives  the  wheel  of  that  below,  so  that  a 
single  race  supplies  them  all.  I  descended  by  a  very  steep  zig 
zag  path  nearly  to  the  bottom.  On  a  little  point  or  promon- 
tory overhanging  the  black  depths,  there  is  a  Moorish  gateway 
still  standing.  The  sunset  threw  a  lovely  glow  over  the  brown 
cliffs  and  the  airy  town  above  ;  but  they  were  far  grander  when 
the  cascades  glittered  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  gulf  out  of 
which  they  leap  was  lost  in  profound  shadow.  The  window 
of  my  bed-room  hung  over  the  chasm. 

Ronda  was  wrapped  in  fog,  when  Jose  awoke  me  on  the 
morning  of  the  22d.  As  we  had  but  about  twenty-four  miles  to 
ride  that  day,  we  did  not  leave  until  sunrise.  We  rode  across 
the  bridge,  through  the  old  town  and  down  the  hill,  passing 
the  triple  lines  of  the  Moorish  walls  by  the  original  gateways. 
The  road,  stony  and  rugged  beyond  measure,  now  took  to  the 
mountains.  From  the  opposite  height,  there  was  a  fine  view 
of  the  town,  perched  like  an  eagle's  nest  on  the  verge  of  its 
tremendous  cliffs ;  but  a  cm  tain  of  rain  soon  fell  before  it,  and 
the  dense  dark  clouds  settled  around  us,  and  Oiled  up  the 
gorges  on  either  hand.  Hour  after  hour,  we  toiled  along  the 
alippery  paths,  scaling  the  high  ridges  by  rocky  ladders,  up 
which  our  horses  climbed  with  the  greatest  difficulty.  The 
scenery,  whenever  I  could  obtain  a  misty  glimpse  of  it,  wai 
•ablime.  Lofty  mountain  ridges  rose  on  either  hand  ;  bleak 


TBAVKLUN«     IX    A     STORM.  443 

jagged  summits  of  naked  rock  pierced  the  clouds,  and  the  deej; 
chasms  which  separated  them  sank  far  below  us,  dark  and 
indistinct  through  the  rain.  Sometimes  I  caught  sight  of  a 
little  hamlet,  hanging  on  some  almost  inaccessible  ledge,  the 
home  of  the  lawless,  semi-Moorish  mountaineers  who  inhabit 
this  wild  region.  The  faces  of  those  we  met  exhibited  marked 
traces  of  their  Moslem  ancestry,  especially  in  the  almond- 
shaped  eye  and  the  dusky  olive  complexion.  Their  dialect 
retains  many  Oriental  forms  of  expression,  and  I  was  not  a 
little  surprised  at  finding  the  Arabic  "eiwa"  (yes)  in  genera! 
use,  instead  of  the  Spanish  "«'." 

About  eleven  o'clock,  we  reached  the  rude  village  of  Ata- 
jate,  where  we  procured  a  very  good  breakfast  of  kid,  eggs, 
and  white  Ronda  wine.  The  wind  and  rain  increased,  but  I 
had  no  time  to  lose,  as  every  hour  swelled  the  mountain  floods 
and  made  the  journey  more  difficult.  This  district  is  in  the 
worst  repute  of  any  in  Spain  ;  it  is  a  very  nest  of  robbers  and 
contrabandistas.  At  the  vcnta  in  Atajate,  they  urged  us  tc 
take  a  guard,  but  my  valiant  Jose  declared  that  he  had  never 
taken  one,  and  yet  was  never  robbed  ;  so  I  trusted  to  his  good 
<uck.  The  weather,  however,  was  our  best  protection.  In 
such  a  driving  rain,  we  could  bid  defiance  to  the  flint  locks  of 
their  escopettes,  if,  indeed,  any  could  be  found,  so  fond  of  theii 
trade,  as  to  ply  it  in  a  storm 

"  Wherein  the  cub-drawn  bear  would  crouch, 
The  lion  and  the  belly-pinched  wolf 
Kefcp  their  furs  dry." 

Nevertheless,  I  noticed  that  each  of  the  few  convoys  of  lader 
mules  which  we  met,  had  one  or  more  of  the  guardia.  civil 


444  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

accompanying  it.  Besides  these,  the  only  persons  abroad  were 
some  wild-looking  individuals,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  muffled 
iu  long  cloaks,  towards  whom,  as  they  passed,  Jose  would  give 
his  head  a  slight  toss,  and  whisper  to  me:  "more  cottraban- 
•Jistas." 

We  were  soon  in  a  condition  to  defy  the  weather.  The  rain 
i>eat  furiously  in  our  faces,  especially  when  threading  the 
wind-blown  passes  between  the  higher  peaks.  I  raised  my 
umbrella  as  a  defence,  but  the  first  blast  snapped  it  in  twain. 
The  mountain-sides  were  veined  with  rills,  roaring  downward 
into  the  hollows,  and  smaller  rills  soon  began  to  trickle  down 
my  own  sides.  During  the  last  part  of  our  way,  the  patli  wa< 
notched  along  precipitous  steeps,  where  the  storm  was  so  thick 
that  we  could  see  nothing  either  above  or  below.  It  was  like 
riding  along  the  outer  edge  of  the  world.  When  once  you  are 
thoroughly  wet,  it  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  know  that  you  can 
be  no  wetter  ;  and  so  Jose  and  I  went  forward  in  the  best 
possible  humor,  finding  so  much  diversion  in  our  plight  that 
the  dreary  leagues  were  considerably  shortened. 

At  the  venta  of  Gaucin,  where  we  stopped,  the  people 
received  us  kindly.  The  house  consisted  of  one  room — stable, 
kitchen,  and  dining-room  all  in  one.  There  was  a  small  apart- 
ment in  a  windy  loft,  where  a  bed  (much  too  short)  was  pre 
pared  for  me.  A  fire  of  dry  heather  was  made  in  the  wide 
fire-place,  and  the  ruddy  flames,  with  a  change  of  clothing  and 
a  draught  of  the  amber  vintage  of  Estepona,  soon  thawed  out 
the  chill  of  the  journey.  But  I  received  news  which  caused 
H3  u  great  deal  of  anxiety.  The  River  Guadiaro  was  so  high 
that  nobody  could  cross,  and  two  forlorn  muleteers  had  been 
waiting  eight  days  at  tV-  inn,  for  the  waters  to  subside.  Aug 


A     BOYISH     Al'XIUARY.  445 

mented  by  the  rain  which  had  falleu,  and  which  seemed  tc 
increase  as  night  came  on,  how  could  I  hope  to  cross  it  on  the 
morrow  ?  Ill  two  days,  the  India  steamer  would  be  at  Gibral- 
tar ;  my  passage  was  already  taken,  and  I  must  be  there.  Tht 
matter  was  discussed  for  some  time  ;  it  was  pronounced  imp  >c 
sible  to  travel  by  the  usual  road,  but  the  landlord  knew  a  path 
among  the  hills  which  led  to  a  ferry  on  the  Guadiaro.  when 
there  was  a  boat,  and  from  thence  we  could  make  our  way  to 
San  Roque,  which  is  in  sight  of  Gibraltar.  He  demanded 
rather  a  large  fee  for  accompanying  me,  but  there  was  nothing 
else  to  be  done.  Jose  and  I  sat  down  in  great  tribulation  to 
our  accustomed  olla,  but  neither  of  us  could  do  justice  to  it 
and  the  greater  part  gladdened  the  landlord's  two  boys — beau 
tiful  little  imps,  with  faces  like  Murillo's  cherubs. 

Nevertheless,  I  passed  rather  a  merry  evening,  chatting  with 
some  of  the  villagers  over  a  brazier  of  coals  ;  and  one  of  the 
aforesaid  boys,  who,  although  only  eight  years  old,  already 
performed  the  duties  of  mozo,  lighted  me  to  ray  loft.  When 
he  had  put  down  the  lamp,  he  tried  the  door,  and  asked  me  : 
"Have  you  the  key?"  "No,"  said  I,  "I  don't  want  one  ;  1 
am  not  afraid."  "  But,"  he  rejoined,  "  perhaps  you  may  get 
afraid  in  the  night ;  and  if  you  do,  strike  on  this  part  of  the 
wall  (suiting  the  action  to  the  word) — /sleep  on  that  side." 
I  willingly  promised  to  call  him  to  my  aid,  if  I  should  get 
alarmed.  I  slept  but  little,  for  the  wind  was  howling  around 
the  tiles  over  my  head,  and  I  was  busy  with  plans  for  con- 
structing rafts  and  swimming  currents  with  a  rope  around  my 
waiut.  Finally,  I  found  a  little  oblivion,  but  it  seemed  that  1 
bad  scarcely  closed  my  eyes,  when  Jose  pushed  open  the  door 
'•Thanks  be  to  God,  senor  1"  said  lie,  "it  begins  to  dawn 


446  THE     LANDS     OF    THE     SARACE}? 

and  the  sky  is  clear :  we  shall  certainly  get  tc  Gibraltat 
»p-day." 

The  landlord  was  ready,  so  we  took  some  bread  and  a  bas- 
ket of  olives,  and  set  out  at  once.  Leaving  Gaucin,  we  com- 
menced descending  the  mountain  staircase  by  which  the 
Serrania  of  Ronda  is  scaled,  on  the  side  towards  Gibraltar. 
'The  road,"  says  Mr.  Ford.  "  seems  made  by  the  Evil  One  in 
a  hanging  garden  of  Eden."  After  four  miles  of  frightfully 
rugged  descent,  we  reached  an  orange  grove  on  the  banks  of 
the  Xenar,  and  then  took  a  wild  path  leading  along  the  hills 
on  the  right  of  the  stream.  We  overtook  a  few  muleteers, 
who  were  tempted  out  by  the  fine  weather,  and  before  long  the 
correo,  or  mail-rider  from  Rouda  to  San  Roque,  joined  iih. 
4.fter  eight  miles  more  of  toilsome  travel  we  reached  the  val- 
ley of  the  Guadiaro.  The  river  was  not  more  than  twenty 
yards  wide,  flowing  with  a  deep,  strong  current,  between  high 
banks.  Two  ropes  were  stretched  across,  and  a  large,  clumsy 
boat  was  moored  to  the  shore.  We  called  to  the  ferrymen, 
but  they  hesitated,  saying  that  nobody  had  yet  been  able  to 
cross.  However,  we  all  got  in,  with  our  horses,  and  two  of 
the  men,  with  much  reluctance,  drew  us  over.  The  current 
vas  very  powerful,  although  the  river  had  fallen  a  littk 
during  the  night,  but  we  reached  ihe  opposite  bank  without 
accident 

We  had  still  another  river,  the  Guargante,  to  pass,  but 
ire  were  cheered  by  some  peasants  whom  we  met,  with  the 
news  that  the  ferry-boat  had  resumed  operations.  After  this 
3urrent  lay  behind  us,  and  there  was  now  nothing  but  firm 
land  all  the  way  to  Gibraltar,  Jose  declared  with  much 
earnestness  that  he  was  qui*.e  as  glad,  for  my  sake,  as  if  some 


THE     CORK-WOODS.  447 

body  bad  given  him  a  million  of  dollars  Oar  horses,  too 
seemed  to  feel  that  something  had  been  achieved,  and  showec 
sc:h  a  fresh  spirit  that  we  loosened  the  reins  and  let  them  gai 
lop  to  their  hearts'  content  over  the  green  meadows.  Th< 
mountains  were  now  behind  us,  and  the  Moorish  castle  of 
Gaucin  crested  a  peak  blue  with  the  distance.  Over  hills 
covered  with  broom  and  heather  in  blossom,  and  through  hol- 
lows grown  with  oleander,  arbutus  and  the  mastic  shrub,  we 
rode  to  the  cork-wood  forests  of  San  Roque,  the  sporting- 
ground  of  Gibraltar  officers.  The  barking  of  dogs,  the  crack 
ing  of  whips,  and  now  and  then  a  distant  halloo,  announced 
that  a  hunt  was  in  progress,  and  soon  we  came  upon  a  company 
of  thirty  or  forty  horsemen,  in  caps,  white  gloves  and  top-boots, 
scattered  along  the  crest  of  a  hill.  I  had  no  desire  to  stop 
and  witness  the  sport,  for  the  Mediterranean  now  lay  before 
me,  and  the  huge  gray  mass  of  "The  Rock"  loomed  in  the 
distance. 

At  San  Roque,  which  occupies  the  summit  of  a  conical  hill, 
about  half-way  between  Gibraltar  and  Algeciras,  the  landlord 
left  an,  and  immediately  started  on  his  return.  Having  now 
exchanged  the  rugged  bridle-paths  of  Ronda  for  a  smooth 
carriage-road,  Jose  and  I  dashed  on  at  full  gallop,  to  the  end 
of  our  journey.  We  were  both  bespattered  with  mud 
from  head  to  foot,  and  our  jackets  and  sombreros  had  lost 
something  of  their  spruce  air.  We  met  a  great  many  ruddy, 
cleanly-shaven  Englishmen,  who  reined  up  on  one  side  to  let  us 
pass,  with  a  look  of  wonder  at  our  Andalusian  impudence 
Nothing  diverted  Jose  more  than  to  see  one  of  these  English- 
men rising  in  his  stirrups,  as  he  went  by  on  a  trot.  "  Look, 
look,  Senor  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "did  you  ever  see  the  like? 


448  THE  LANDS  OF  THE  SARACEN. 

and  tLen  broke  into  a  fresh  explosion  of  laughter  Passing 
the  Spanish  Lines,  which  stretch  across  the  neck  of  the  sandy 
little  peninsula,  connecting  Gibraltar  with  the  main  land,  we 
rode  under  the  terrible  batteries  which  snarl  at  Spain  from 
this  side  of  the  Rock.  Row  after  row  of  enormous  gun? 
bristle  the  walls,  or  look  out  from  the  galleries  hewn  in  the  sides 
of  inaccessible  cliffs  An  artificial  moat  is  cut  along  the  base  of 
the  Rock,  and  a  simple  bridge-road  leads  into  the  fortress  and 
town.  After  giving  up  my  passport  I  was  allowed  to  enter, 
Jos6  having  already  obtained  a  permit  from  the  Spanish  authori- 
ties. 

I  clattered  up  the  long  street  of  the  town  to  the  Club 
House,  where  I  found  a  company  of  English  friends.  In  the 
evening,  Jos6  made  his  appearance,  to  settle  our  accounts  and 
take  his  leave  of  me.  While  scrambling  down  the  rocky  stair- 
way of  Gaucin,  Jos6  had  said  to  me  :  "  Look  you,  Senor,  I 
am  very  fond  of  English  beer,  and  if  I  get  you  to  Gibraltar 
to-day  you  must  give  me  a  glass  of  it."  When,  therefore,  he 
came  in  the  evening,  his  eyes  sparkled  at  the  sight  of  a  bottle 
of  Alsop's  Ale,  and  a  handful  of  good  Gibraltar  cigars 
"Ah,  Senor,"  said  he,  after  our  books  were  squared,  and  lie 
had  pocketed  his  gratificadon,  "  I  am  sorry  we  are  going  to 
part ;  for  we  are  good  friends,  are  we  not,  Senor  ?"  "  Yes, 
Jos6,"  said  I ;  "  if  I  ever  come  to  Granada  again,  I  shall  take 
no  other  guide  than  Jos6  Garcia  ;  and  I  will  have  you  for  a 
longer  journey  than  this.  We  shall  go  over  all  Spain  together, 
miamigo!"  "May  God  grant  it!"  responded  Jos6,  crossing 
himself ;  "  and  now,  Senor,  I  must  go.  I  shall  travel  back  to 
Granada,  muy  triste,  Senor,  muy  triste"  The  faithful  fellow's 
eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and,  as  he  lifted  my  hand  twice  to  his 


TRAVELLING     IN     SPAIN.  449 

lips,  some  warm  drops  fell  upon  it.  God  bless  his  honest  heart, 
wherever  he  goes  ! 

And  now  a  word  as  to  travelling  in  Spain,  wbicb  is  not 
attended  with  half  the  difficulties  and  annoyances  I  had  been 
led  to  expect.  My  experience,  of  course,  is  limited  to  the 
provinces  of  Andalusia,  but  my  route  included  some  of  the 
roughest  roads  and  most  dangerous  robber  districts  in  the 
Peninsula.  The  people  with  whom  I  came  in  contact  were 
invariably  friendly  and  obliging,  and  I  was  dealt  with  much 
more  honestly  than  I  should  have  been  in  Italy.  With  every 
disposition  to  serve  yon,  there  is  nothing  like  servility  among 
the  Spaniards.  The  native  dignity  which  characterizes  theii 
demeanor  prepossesses  me  very  strongly  in  their  favor.  There 
is  but  one  dialect  of  courtesy,  and  the  muleteers  and  common 
peasants  address  each  other  with  the  same  grave  respect  as  the 
Dons  and  Grandees.  My  friend  Jose  was  a  model  of  good- 
breeding. 

I  had  little  trouble  either  with  passport-officers  or  custom- 
houses. My  passport,  in  fact,  was  never  once  demanded, 
although  I  took  the  precaution  to  have  it  vised  in  ail  the  large 
cities.  In  Seville  and  Malaga,  it  was  signed  by  the  American 
Consuls,  without  the  usual  fee  ot  two  dollars — almost  the  only 
instances  which  have  come  under  my  observation.  The  regula- 
tions of  the  American  Consular  System,  which  gives  the  Con- 
suls no  salary,  but  permits  them,  instead,  to  get  their  pay  out 
of  travellers,  is  a  disgrace  to  our  government.  It  amounts,  in 
effect,  to  a  direct  tax  on  travel,  and  falls  heavily  on  the  hun- 
dreds of  young  men  of  limited  means,  who  fcanually  visit 
Europe  for  the  purpose  of  completing  their  education.  Every 
American  citizen  who  travels  in  Italy  pays  a  passport  tax  of 


450  THE     LANDS     OF     THE     SARACEIS. 

ten  dollars.  In  all  the  ports  of  the  Mediterranean,  there  is  an 
American  Vice-Consul,  who  does  not  even  get  the  postage  paid 
on  his  dispatches,  and  to  whom  the  advent  of  a  traveller  is  of 
course  a  welcome  sight.  Misled  by  a  false  notion  of  economy,  om 
government  is  fast  becoming  proverbial  for  its  meanness.  If 
those  of  our  own  citizens  who  represent  us  abroad  only  worked 
as  they  are  paid,  and  if  the  foreigners  who  act  as  Vice-Consuls 
without,  pay  did  not  derive  some  petty  trading  advantages 
*roin  their  position,  we  should  be  almost  without  protection. 


With  my  departure  from  Spain  closes  the  record  of  my 
journey  in  the  Lands  of  the  Saracen  ;  for,  although  I  after 
wards  beheld  more  perfect  types  of  Saracenic  Art  on  the  banks 
of  the  Jumna  and  the  Ganges,  they  grew  up  under  the  great 
Empire  of  the  descendants  of  Tamerlane,  and  were  the  crea- 
tions of  artists  foreign  to  the  soil.  It  would,  no  doubt,  be 
interesting  to  contrast  the  remains  of  Oriental  civilization  and 
refinement,  as  they  still  exist  at  the  extreme  eastern  and 
western  limits  of  the  Moslem  sway,  and  to  show  how  that  Art, 
which  had  its  birth  in  the  capitals  of  the  Caliphs — Damascus 
and  Baghdad — attained  its  most  perfect  development  in  Spain 
and  India  ;  but  my  visit  to  the  latter  country  connects  itself 
naturally  with  my  voyage  to  China,  Loo-Choo,  and  Japan, 
forming  a  separate  and  distinct  field  of  travel. 

On  the  27th  of  November,  the  Overland  Mail  Steamer 
arrived  at  Gibraltar,  and  I  embarked  in  her  for  Alexandria, 
entering  upon  another  year  of  even  more  varied,  strange,  and 
adventurous  experiences,  than  that  which  had  closed.  I  an? 


CONCLUSION,  451 

almost  afraid  to  ask  those  patient  readers,  who  have  accomp* 
nicd  me  thus  far.  to  travel  with  me  through  another  volume ; 
Irat  next  to  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  world,  comes  the  plea 
sure  of  telling  of  it,  and  I  most  needs  finish  my  story. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES 


RELATED   BY   HIMSELF 


A  STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LIFE 


BAYARD  TAYLOR 


AUTHOR'S  REVISED  EDITION 


\ 

Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864,  by 

GKORGB  P.  PUTNAM, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 
Also  entered  at  Stationer's  Hall,  London. 

Copyright,  1892,  by 
MARIE  TAYLOR. 


TO  JAMES  LORIMER    GRAHAM,  JR.,   ESQ., 
NEW  YORK. 

MY  DEAR  GRAHAM,  —  I  owe  it  to  your  kindness  that 
the  mechanical  labor  of  putting  this  book  into  words  has 
been  so  greatly  reduced  as  almost  to  become  a  pleasure. 
Hence  you  were  much  in  my  thoughts  while  I  wrote,  and  I 
do  not  ask  your  permission  to  associate  your  name  with  the 
completed  work. 

I  have  found,  from  experience,  that  whatever  the  pre- 
liminary explanations  an  author  may  choose  to  give,  they 
are  practically  useless.  Those  persons  who  insist  —  against 
my  own  express  declaration  —  that  "  Hannah  Thurston  " 
was  intended  as  a  picture  of  the  "  Reformers "  of  this 
country,  will  be  sure  to  make  the  discovery  that  this  book 
represents  the  literary  guild.  Those,  also,  who  imagine 
that  they  recognized  the  author  in  Maxwell  Woodbury,  will 
not  fail  to  recognize  him  in  John  Godfrey,  although  there 
is  no  resemblance  between  the  two  characters.  Finally, 
those  sensitive  readers  who  protest  against  any  represen- 
tation of  "American  Life,"  which  is  not  an  unmitigated 
glorification  of  the  same,  will  repeat  their  dissatisfaction, 
and  insist  that  a  single  work  should  contain  every  feature 
of  that  complex  national  being,  which  a  thousand  volume* 
could  not  exhaust 


IT  DEDICATION. 

I  will  only  say  (to  you,  who  will  believe  me)  of  this 
book,  that,  like  its  predecessor,  it  is  the  result  of  observa- 
tion. Not  what  ought  to  be,  or  might  be,  is  the  propel 
province  of  fiction,  but  what  is.  And  so,  throwing  upon 
John  Godfrey's  head  all  the  consequences  of  this  declara 
tion,  ]  send  him  forth  to  try  new  fortunes. 

Yours  always. 

BAY  A  Kb 

CuxAJtCKOFT,  September,  1864. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  M« 

IH    WHICH,  AFTER   THE    VISIT    OF    NEIGHBOR    NILB8,    MT    CHILD- 
HOOD   SUDDENLY    TERMINATES 1 

CHAPTER     II. 

DESCRIBING     MT     INTRODUCTION     INTO    DR.     DYMOND's     BOARD- 
IMG-SCHOOL  16 

CHAPTER  HI. 

IH    WHICH    I    BEGIN    TO    LOOK    FORWARD SI 

CHAPTER  IV. 

CONTAINING  FEATS   IN   THK   CELLAR  AND  CONVERSATIONS 

UPON  THE  ROOF 48 

CHAPTER   V. 

WHICH    BRINGS    A    STERNER   CHANGE    IN    MT    FORTUNES     .  .          68 

CHAPTER   VL 

IF    WHICH    I    DISCOVER   A    NEW    RELATIVE       .  76 

CHAPTER  VII. 

IN  WHICH  UNCLE  AND  AUNT  WOOLLEY  TAKB  CHARGE  OF  ME   86 

CHAPTER   VIII 

DESCRIBING    CERTAIN    INCIDENTS    OF    MT    LIFE    (N    READING  99 

CHAPTER   IX. 

IN     WHICH     I     OUGHT    TO    BB     A    SHEEP,    BUT     PROVK     TO     BE     A 

•OAT  .    tlC 


vi  CONTENTS. 

•Mi 
CHAPTER  X. 

CONCERNING    MT    ESTABLISHMENT    IN    UPPER    SAMARIA      .  .      126 

CHAPTER  XL 

CONTAINING     BRATTON'S    PARTY     AND     THE     EPISODE     OF     TUB 

LIME-KILN 188 

CHAPTER   XII. 

S    WHICH    LOVE    AND    LITERATURE    STIMULATE    EACH    OTHER          167 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

OJ    WHICH    I    DECLARE,    DECIDE,    AND    VENTURE  .  .  .  .167 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN    WHICH    I    GO    TO    MARKET,    BUT    CANNOT    SELL    MY     WARES          17S 

CHAPTER    XV. 

CONCERNING      MY      ENTRANCE       INTO     MRS.      VERY's     BOARDING- 
HOUSE,    AND    VARIOUS    OTHER    MATTERS 192 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

DESCRIBING     MR.      WINCH'S     RECONCILIATION     BALL,     AND     ITS 

TWO    FORTUNATE    CONSEQUENCES       .  ....    202 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

WHICH    "  CONDENSES    THE    MISCELLANEOUS  "    OF    A    TEAR  .  .    216 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

IN    WHICH    I    AGAIN    BEHOLD   AMANDA 226 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

RELATING  HOW   1   CAME    INTO    POSSESSION    OF    MY    INHERITANCE    242 

CHAPTER   XX. 

IN     WHICH    1    DINE    WITH    MR.    CLARENDON    AND    MAKE    THE   AC- 
QUAINTANCE   OF    MR.    BRANDAGEE 254 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

IH    WHICH    I    ATTEND    MRS.    YORKTON'S    RECEPTIOW      .  .  .    269 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

•N    WHICH    I    ENTER     OENTKEL     SOCIETY    AND     MEET     MY     RELA- 
TIVES •  384 


CONTENTS.  vil 

PMi 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

DESCRIBING    MY     INTERVIEW    WITH    MARY    MAI.ONET   .  .  297 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

A    DINNER-PARTY    AT    DELMONICO'S         ...  .  .    306 

CHAPTER   XXV. 

CONTAINING,    AMONG    OTHER    THINGS,   MY     VISIT     TO     THE    ICH- 
NEUMON        81*» 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 

IK    WHICH     I     TALK     WITH     TWO     GIRLS    AT     A    VERT     SOCIABLE 

PARTY 882 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 

WHICH.  SHOWS    THAT    THERE    WAS   SOMETHING    MORE  .  .    848 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

WHICH  GIVES  AN   ACCOUNT  OF  A   FIRE,  AND  WHAT  FOLLOWED   IT    366 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

IN     WHICH     PENROSE     FLINGS     DOWN    THK     GLOVE    AND     I     PICK 

IT     UP 869 

CHAPTER   XXX. 

WHICH    BRINGS    A    THUNDERBOLT  ...  .  881 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 

IN    WHICH    I    BEGIN    TO    GO    DOWNWARDS 898 

CHAPTER   XXXII. 

CONCERNING    MARY    MALONEY's    TROUBLE,  AND  WHAT  I    DID    TO 

REMOVE    IT 406 

CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

WHICH    SHOWS    WHAT    I    BECAME  .  .  ...    417 

CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

IS    WHICH    I    HEAR    FOOTSTEPS 480 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 

IN    WHICH     I     HEKT>     OOOn    ADVICE,    M\KK     A      DISCOVERT,    A1fl> 

RETURN    TO    MRS.    VERT  .  .    448 


TO!  CONTENTS. 

MM 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

WHICH    BRINGS     THE    SYMPHONY    TO    AN    END,    BUT    LEAVES    ME 
WITH    A    HOPE 7  .  454 

CHAPTER  XXXVH. 

WHICH    BRINGS   MY    FORTUNE    AT    LAST 46£ 

CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

OP    WHICH    JANE    HKRRY    18    THE    HEROIN  K  ....    47£ 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

IM    WHICH    I    RECEIVE    AN     UNEXPECTED     LETTER     FROM    UNCLE 

WOOLLKY 49] 

CHAPTER  XL. 

OOHOLCTBIOB 50$ 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES; 

RELATED   BY   HIMSELF. 
CHAPTER  I. 

IN    WHICH,    AFTER     THE    VISIT    OF     NEIGHBOR     NILE8,    Ml 
CHILDHOOD    SUDDENLY    TERMINATES. 

I  WAS  sitting  at  the  front  window,  buried,  chin-deep,  in 
the  perusal  of  "  Sandford  and  Merton."  when  I  heard  the 
latch  of  the  gate  click.  Looking  up,  I  saw  that  it  was  only 
Neighbor  Niles.  coining,  as  usual,  in  her  sun-bonnet,  with 
her  bare  arms  wrapped  in  her  apron,  for  a  chat  with 
mother.  I  therefore  resumed  my  reading,  for  Neighbor 
Niles  always  burst  into  the  house  without  knocking,  and 
mother  was  sure  to  know  who  it  was  by  the  manner  in 
which  the  door  opened.  I  had  gotten  as  far  into  the  book 
as  the  building  of  the  Robinson-Crusoe  hut,  and  one  half 
of  my  mir.d  speculated,  as  I  read,  whether  a  similar  hut 
might  not  be  constructed  in  our  garden,  in  the  corner 
between  the  snowball-bush  and  Muley's  stable.  Bob  Sim- 
mons would  help  me,  I  was  sure  ;  only  it  was  scarcely  pos 
sible  to  finish  it  before  winter,  and  then  we  could  n't  live 
in  it  without  a  fireplace  and  a  chimney. 

Mother  was  hard  at  work,  making  me  a  new  jacket  of 
gray  satinet,  lined  with  black  chintz.  My  reading  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  necessity  of  jumping  up  every  ten  minutes, 
jerking  off  my  old  coat  and  trying  on  the  new  one,  — - 
sometimes  the  body  without  the  sleeves,  sometimes  one  of 
1 


2  JOHN    GODFREY'S     FORTUNES. 

the  sleeves  alone.  Somehow  it  would  n't  fit  at  the  shoul- 
ders, and  the  front  halves,  instead  of  lying  smoothly  upon 
my  breast  as  they  should  have  done,  continually  turned  and 
flew  back  against  my  arms,  as  if  I  had  been  running  at  full 
speed.  A  tailor  would  have  done  the  work  better,  it  can't 
be  denied,  but  mother  could  not  afford  that.  "  You  can 
keep  it  buttoned,  Johnny  dear,"  she  would  say,  "  and  then 
I  think  it  '11  look  very  nice." 

Presently  the  door  burst  open,  and  there  was  Neighbor 
Niles,  voice  and  figure  all  at  once,  loud,  hearty,  and  bus- 
tling. Always  hurried  to  "  within  an  inch  of  her  life," 
always  working  "  like  six  yoke  of  oxen,"  (as  she  was  ac- 
customed to  say,)  she  inveterately  gossiped  in  the  midst 
of  her  labor,  and  jumped  up  in  sudden  spirts  of  work  when 
she  might  have  rested.  We  knew  her  well  and  liked  her. 
I  believe,  indeed,  she  was  generally  liked  in  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  but  when  some  of  the  farmers,  deceived  by  her  own 
chatter,  spoke  of  her  as  "  a  smart,  doing  woman,"  their 
wives  would  remark,  with  a  slight  toss  of  the  head,  "  Them 
that  talks  the  most  does  n't  always  do  the  most" 

OB  this  occasion,  her  voice  entered  the  room,  as  nearly  as 
I  can  recollect,  in  the  following  style  :  — 

"  Good  mornin',  Neighbor  Godfrey  !  '  Well,  Johnny, 
how  's  he  ?  Still  a-readin'  ?  He  '11  be  gittin'  too  much  in 
that  head  o*  his'n.  Jist  put  my  bakin'  into  th'  oven,  —  six 
punkin-pies,  ten  dried-apple,  and  eight  loaves  o'  bread, 
besides  a  pan  o'  rusk.  If  I  had  nothin'  else  to  do  but 
bake,  't  would  be  enough  for  one  woman  :  things  goes  in 
our  house.  Got  the  jacket  most  done  ?  Might  ha'  saved 
a  little  stuff  if  you  'd  ha'  cut  that  left  arm  more  eater- 
cornered,  —  't  would  ha'  been  full  long,  I  guess,  and  there 
a'n't  no  nap,  o'  no  account,  on  satinet.  Jane  Koffmann, 
she  was  over  at  Readin'  last  week,  and  got  some  for  her 
boys,  a  fippenny-bit  a  yard  cheaper  'n  this.  Don't  know, 
though,  as  it  '11  wear  so  well.  Laws !  are  you  sewin'  witb 
silk  instead  o'  patent  throad  ?  " 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  8 

"  I  find  it  saves  me  work,"  said  my  mother,  as  Neighbor 
Niles  popped  into  the  nearest  chair,  drew  her  hands  from 
under  her  apron,  leaned  over,  and  picked  up  a  spool  from 
the  lap-board.  "  Patent  thread  soon  wears  out  at  the 
elbows  and  shoulders,  and  then  there  are  rips,  you  know 
Besides,  the  color  don't  hold,  and  the  seams  soon  look 
shabby." 

I  resumed  my  reading,  while  our  visitor  exhausted  the 
small  budget  of  gossip  which  had  accumulated  since  her 
last  visit,  two  days  before.  Her  words  fell  upon  my  ear? 
mechanically,  but  failed  to  make  any  impression  upon  my 
mind,  which  was  wholly  fixed  upon  the  book.  After  a  while, 
however,  my  mother  called  to  me,  — 

"  Johnny,  I  think  there  's  some  clearing  up  to  do  in  the 
garden." 

I  knew  what  that  meant.  Mother  wished  to  have  some 
talk  with  Neighbor  Niles,  which  I  was  not  to  hear.  Many 
a  time  had  I  been  sent  into  the  garden,  on  the  pretence  of 
"  clearing  up  things,"  when  I  knew,  and  mother  alM)  knew, 
that  the  beds  were  weeded,  the  alleys  clean  scraped,  the 
rubbish  gathered  together  and  thrown  into  the  little  stable- 
yard,  and  all  other  work  done  which  a  strong  inventive 
faculty  could  suggest  It  was  a  delicate  way  of  getting  me 
out  of  the  room. 

I  laid  down  my  book  with  a  sigh,  but  brightened  up  as 
the  idea  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  now,  at  once,  select 
the  site  of  my  possible  Crusoe  hut,  and  take  an  inventory 
of  the  material  available  for  its  construction.  As  I  paused 
on  the  oblong  strip  of  turf,  spread  like  a  rug  before  the 
garden-door,  and  glanced  in  at  the  back-window,  I  saw  that 
mother  had  already  dropped  her  sewing,  and  that  she  and 
Neighbor  Niles  had  put  their  heads  together,  in  a  strictly 
literal  sense,  for  a  private  consultation. 

The  garden  was  a  long,  narrow  plot  of  ground,  running 
back  to  the  stable  of  our  cow.  and  the  adjoining  yard,  which 
she  was  obliged  to  share  with  two  we  11 -grown  and  voracious 


4  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

pigs.  I  walked  along  the  main  alley,  peering  into  the  bed* 
right  and  left  for  something  to  kk  clear  up,"  in  order  to 
satisfy  my  conscience  before  commencing  my  castle-  or 
rather  hut-building  ;  but  I  found  nothing  more  serious  than 
lluee  dry  stalks  of  seed-radishes,  which  I  pulled  up  and 
'flung  over  the  fence.  Then  I  walked  straight  to  the  snow- 
ball-bush. I  remember  pacing  off  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  snug,  grassy  corner  behind  it,  and  discovering,  to  my 
grief,  that,  although  there  was  room  for  a  hut  big  enough 
for  Bob  and  myself  to  sit  in,  it  would  be  impossible  to  walk 
about,  —  much  less  swing  a  cat  by  the  tail.  In  fact,  we 
should  have  to  take  as  model  another  small  edifice,  which, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  bush,  already  disturbed  the  need- 
ful solitude.  Moreover,  not  a  hand's-breadth  of  board 
or  a  stick  of  loose  timber  was  to  be  found.  "  If  I  were 
only  in  Charley  Rand's  place  ! "  I  thought.  .  His  father  had 
a  piece  of  woodland  in  which  you  might  lose  your  way 
for  as  much  as  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at  a  time,  with  enough 
of  dead  boughs  and  refuse  bark  to  build  a  whole  encamp- 
ment of  huts.  Charley,  perhaps,  might  be  willing  to  join 
in  the  sport ;  but  he  was  not  a  favorite  playfellow  of  mine, 
and  would  be  certain  to  claim  the  hut  as  his  exclusive  prop- 
erty, after  we  other  fellows  had  helped  him  to  build  it 
He  was  that  sort  of  a  boy.  Then  my  fancy  wandered 
away  to  the  real  Crusoe  on  his  island,  and  I  repeated  to 
myself  Cowper's  "  Verses,  supposed  to  be  written  by  Alex- 
ander Selkirk."  Somehow,  the  lines  gave  an  unexpected 
turn  to  my  thoughts.  Where  would  be  the  great  fun  of 
playing  Crusoe,  or  even  his  imitators,  Sandford  and  Mer- 
ton,  in  a  back-garden,  where  a  fellow's  mother  might  call 
him  away  at  any  moment  ?  I  should  not  be  out  of  human- 
ity's reach,  nor  cease  to  hear  the  sweet  music  of  speech 
the  beasts  that  roam  over  the  plain  (especially  McAllister's 
bull,  in  the  next  field)  would  not  behold  my  form  with  in- 
difference, nor  would  they  suddenly  become  shockingly 
tame.  It  would  all  be  a  make-believe,  from  beginning  to 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  5 

end,  requiring  even  greater  efforts  of  imagination  than  1 
had  perpetrated  a  few  years  earlier,  in  playing  at  the  vil 
lage  school,  — 

"  Here  come  three  lords,  all  out  of  Spain, 
A-courting  of  your  daughter  Jane," 

or  in  creating  real  terror  by  fancying  a  bear  crouching  be 
hind  the  briers  in  the  fence-corner. 

A  little  ashamed  of  myself,  I  walked  to  the  garden-paling 
and  looked  over  it,  and  across  the  rolling  fields,  to  some 
low,  hazy  hills  in  the  distance.  I  belong  to  that  small 
class  of  men  whose  natures  are  not  developed  by  a  steady, 
gradual  process  of  growth,  but  advance  by  sudden  and 
seemingly  arbitrary  bounds,  divided  by  intervals  during 
which  their  faculties  remain  almost  stationary.  I  had  now 
reached  one  of  those  periods  of  growth,  —  the  first,  indeed, 
which  clearly  presented  itself  to  my  own  consciousness. 
I  had  passed  my  sixteenth  birthday,  and  the  physical 
change  which  was  imminent  began  to  touch  and  give  color 
to  the  operations  of  my  mind.  My  vision  did  not  pause  at 
the  farthest  hill,  but  went  on,  eagerly,  into  the  unknown 
landscape  beyond.  I  had  previously  talked  of  the  life  that 
lay  before  me  as  I  had  talked  of  Sinbad  and  Gulliver. 
Robert  Bruce  and  William  Tell :  all  at  once  I  became 
conscious  that  it  was  an  earnest  business. 

What  must  I  do?  What  should  I  become?  The  few 
occupations  which  found  a  place  in  our  little  village  re- 
pelled me.  My  frame  wan  slight,  and  I  felt  that,  even  if  ] 
liked  it,  I  could  never  swing  the  blacksmith's  hammer,  or 
rip  boards  like  Dick  Brown,  the  carpenter.  Moreover,  ] 
had  an  instinctive  dislike  to  all  kinds  of  manual  labor, 
except  the  light  gardening  tasks  in  which  I  assisted  my 
mother.  Sometimes,  in  the  harvest-season,  I  had  earned  a 
little  pocket-money  on  the  neighboring  farms.  It  was 
pleasant  enough  to  toss  hay  into  cocks  on  the  fragrant 
meadows,  but  I  did  n't  like  the  smother  of  packing  it  in 


6  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

the  steaming  mows,  and  my  fingers  became  painfully  sor« 
from  binding  sheaves.  My  ambition  —  at  this  time  but  a 
vague,  formless  desire  —  was  to  be  a  scholar,  a  man  of 
learning.  How  this  was  to  be  attained,  or  what  lay  beyond 
it,  I  could  not  clearly  see.  I  knew,  without  being  able  to 
explain  why,  that  the  Cross-Keys  (as  our  village  was 
called,  from  its  tavern-sign)  was  no  place  for  me.  But,  up 
to  the  afternoon  I  am  describing,  I  had  never  given  the 
subject  a  serious  thought 

Many  a  boy  of  ten  knows  far  more  of  the  world  than  1 
then  did.  I  doubt  if  any  shepherd  on  the  high  Norwegian 
fjelds  lives  in  greater  seclusion  than  did  we,  —  my  mother 
and  myself.  The  Cross- Keys  lay  aside  from  any  of  tho 
main  highways  of  the  county,  and  the  farmers  around  were 
mostly  descendants  of  the  original  settlers  of  the  soil,  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  before.  Their  lives  were  still  as 
simple  and  primitive  as  in  the  last  century.  Few  of  them 
ever  travelled  farther  than  to  the  Philadelphia  market,  at 
the  beginning  of  winter,  to  dispose  of  their  pigs  and  poul 
try.  A  mixture  of  the  German  element,  dating  from  the 
first  emigration,  tended  still  further  to  conserve  the  habits 
and  modes  of  thought  of  the  community.  My  maternal 
grandfather,  Hatzfeld,  was  of  this  stock,  and  many  of  his 
peculiarities,  passing  over  my  mother,  have  reappeared  in 
me,  to  play  their  part  in  the  shaping  of  my  fortunes. 

My  father  had  been  a  house-  and  sign-painter  in  the 
larger  village  of  Honeybrook,  four  miles  distant.  Immedi- 
ately after  his  death,  which  happened  when  I  was  eight 
years  old,  my  mother  removed  to  the  Cross-Keys,  princi- 
pally because  she  had  inherited  the  small  cottage  and  gar- 
den from  her  spinster  aunt,  Christina  Hatzfeld.  There 
was  nothing  else,  for  my  great-aunt  had  only  a  life-interest 
in  the  main  estate,  which  —  I  do  not  know  precisely  how 
—  had  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  male  heirs.  My 
mother's  means  were  scarcely  sufficient  to  support  us  ic 
the  simplest  way.  and  she  was  therefore  in  the  habit  of 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  7 

''  king  in  sewing"  from  the  wives  of  the  neighboring 
fanners.  Her  labor  was  often  paid  in  produce,  and  she 
sometimes  received,  in  addition,  presents  of  fruit,  potatoes, 
and  fuel  from  the  kindly-hearted  people.  Thus  we  never 
reached  the  verge  of  actual  want,  though  there  were  times 
when  our  daily  fare  was  plainer  than  she  cared  to  let  the 
neighbors  see,  and  when  the  new  coat  or  shawl  had  to  be 
postponed  to  a  more  fortunate  season.  For  at  least  half 
the  year  I  attended  the  village  school,  and  had  already 
learned  nearly  as  much  as  a  teacher  hired  for  twenty  dollars 
a  month  was  capable  of  imparting.  The  last  one,  indeed, 
was  unable  to  help  me  through  quadratic  equations,  and 
forced  me,  unwillingly,  upon  a  course  of  Mensuration. 

Between  mother  and  myself  there  was  the  most  entire 
confidence,  except  upon  the  single  subject  of  my  future 
She  was  at  once  mother  and  elder  sister,  entering  with 
heart  and  soul  into  all  my  childish  plans  of  work  or  play, 
listening  with  equal  interest  to  the  stories  I  read,  or  relat- 
ing to  me  the  humble  incidents  of  her  own  life,  with  a 
sweet,  fresh  simplicity  of  language,  which  never  lost  by 
repetition.  Her  large  black  eyes  would  sparkle,  and  her 
round  face,  to  which  the  old-fashioned  puffs  of  hair  on  the 
temples  gave  such  an  odd  charm,  became  as  youthful  in 
expression,  I  am  sure,  as  my  own.  Her  past  and  her  pres- 
ent were  freely  shared  with  me,  but  she  drew  back  when  I 
turned  with  any  seriousness  towards  the  future.  At  one 
time,  I  think,  she  would  have  willingly  stopped  the  march 
of  my  years,  and  been  content  to  keep  me  at  her  side,  a 
boy  forever.  I  was  incapable  of  detecting  this  feeling  at 
the  time,  and  perhaps  I  wrong  her  memory  in  alluding  to 
it  now.  God  knows  I  have  often  wished  it  could  have 
been  so  !  Whatever  of  natural  selfishness  there  may  have 
been  in  the  thought,  she  weighed  it  down,  out  of  sight,  by 
all  those  years  of  self-denial,  and  the  final  sacrifice,  for  mj 
sake.  No  truer,  tenderer,  more  single-hearted  mothe> 
ever  lived  than  Barbara  Godfrey. 


8  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

She  was  so  cordially  esteemed  in  our  little  community 
that  no  reproach,  on  my  account,  was  allowed  to  reach  hei 
ears.  A  boy  of  my  age,  who  had  no  settled  occupation, 
was  there  considered  to  be  in  danger  of  becoming  a  use- 
less member  of  society  ;  antipathy  to  hard,  coarse  manual 
labor  implied  a  moral  deficiency  ;  much  schooling,  for  one 
without  means,  was  a  probable  evil :  but  no  one  had  the 
heart  to  unsettle  the  widow's  comfort  in  her  child.  Now 
and  then,  perhaps,  a  visitor  might  ask,  "  What  are  you 
going  to  make  of  him,  Barbara  ? "  whereupon  my  mother 
would  answer,  "  He  must  make  himself,"  —  with  a  con- 
fident smile  which  put  the  question  aside. 

These  words  came  across  my  mind  as  I  leaned  against 
the  palings,  trying  to  summon  some  fleeting  outline  of  my 
destiny  from  the  vapory  distance  of  the  landscape.  I  was 
perplexed,  but  not  discouraged.  My.  trials,  thus  far,  had 
been  few.  When  I  first  went  to  school,  the  boys  had  called 
me  "  Bricktop,"  or.  account  of  the  auburn  tinge  of  my  hair, 
which  was  a  source  of  great  sorrow  until  Sam  Haskell, 
whose  head  was  of  fiery  hue,  relieved  me  of  the  epithet. 
Emily  Rand,  whose  blue  eyes  and  yellow  ringlets  confused 
my  lessons,  (I  am  not  certain  but  her  pink-spotted  calico 
frock  had  something  to  do  with  it,)  treated  me  scornfully, 
and  even  scratched  my  face  when  it  was  my  turn  to  kiss 
her  in  playing  "  Love  and  War."  The  farmers'  sons  also 
laughed  at  my  awkwardness  and  want  of  muscle ;  but  this 
annoyance  was  counterbalanced  in  the  winter,  when  they 
came  to  measure  another  sort  of  strength  with  me  at  school 
I  had  an  impression  that  my  value  in  the  neighborhood 
was  not  estimated  very  highly,  and  had  periodical  attacks 
of  shyness  which  almost  amounted  to  self-distrust.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  had  never  experienced  any  marked  unkind- 
ness  or  injustice  ;  my  mother  spoke  ill  of  no  one,  and  I  did 
not  imagine  the  human  race  to  be  otherwise  than  honest, 
virtuous,  and  reciprocally  helpful. 

I  soon  grew  tired  of  facing  the  sober  aspect  of  reality 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  9 

so  unexpectedly  presented,  and  wandered  off,  as  was  the 
habit  of  my  mind,  into  vague  and  splendid  dreams.  If  I 
had  the  Wonderful  Lamp,  —  if  a  great  roc  should  come 
sailing  out  of  the  western  sky,  pick  me  up  in  his  claws,  and 
carry  me  to  the  peaks  overlooking  the  Valley  of  Diamonds, 
—  if  there  were  still  a  country  where  a  cat  might  be  sold 
for  a  ship-load  of  gold,  —  if  I  might  carry  a  loaf  of  bread 
under  my  arm,  like  Benjamin  Franklin,  and  afterwards 
become  rich  and  celebrated,  (the  latter  circumstance  being, 
of  course,  a  result  of  the  former,)  —  there  would  be  no  dif- 
ficulty about  my  fate.  It  was  hardly  likely,  however,  that 
either  of  these  things  would  happen  to  me  ;  but  why  not 
something  else,  equally  strange  and  fortunate  ? 

A  hard  slap  on  a  conspicuous,  but  luckily  not  a  sensitive 
portion  of  my  body  caused  me  to  spring  almost  over  the 
paling.  I  whirled  abound,  and  with  a  swift  instinct  of  re- 
taliation, struck  out  violently  with  both  fists. 

"  No,  you  don't !  "  cried  Bob  Simmons,  (for  he  it  was,) 
dodging  the  blows  and  then  catching  me  by  the  wrists.  "  J 
did  n't  mean  to  strike  so  hard,  John ;  don't  be  mad  about  it. 
I  'm  going  away  soon,  and  came  around  to  tell  you." 

Bob  was  my  special  crony,  because  I  had  found  him  to 
be  the  kindest-hearted  of  all  the  village  boys.  He  was  not 
bright  at  school,  and  was  apt  to  be  rough  in  his  language  and 
manners ;  but  from  the  day  he  first  walked  home  with  me, 
with  his  arm  around  my  neck.  I  had  faith  in  his  affection. 
He  seemed  to  like  me  all  the  better  from  my  lack  of  the 
hard  strength  which  filled  him  from  head  to  foot.  He  once 
carried  me  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  his  arms,  when  I 
had  sprained  my  ankle  in  jumping  down  out  of  an  apple-tree. 
He  had  that  rough  male  nature  which  loves  what  it  has 
once  protected  or  helped.  Besides,  he  was  the  only  com- 
panion to  whom  I  dared  confide  my  vague  projects  of  life, 
with  the  certainty  of  being  not  only  heard,  but  encouraged 

"  Yes,"  said  Bob,  "  I  am  going  away,  maybe  in  a  fe* 
weeks." 


10  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  Where  ?    Not  going  away  for  good,  Bob  ?  " 

"  Like  as  not.  I  'm  nearly  eighteen,  and  Dad  says  it  'l 
time  to  go  to  work  on  my  own  hook.  The  farm,  you  know, 
is  n't  big  enough  for  him  and  me,  and  he  can  get  along  with 
Brewster  now.  So  I  must  learn  a  trade  ;  what  do  you  think 
it  is  ?  " 

"  You  said,  Bob,  that  you  'd  like  to  be  a  mason  ?  " 

*  Would  n't  I,  though !  But  it 's  the  next  thing  to  it 
Dad  says  there  a'n't  agoin'  to  be  many  more  stone  houses 
built,  —  bricks  has  got  to  be  the  fashion.  But  they  're  sc 
light,  it 's  no  kind  o'  work.  All  square,  too ;  you  've 
just  to  put  one  atop  of  t'  other,  and  there  's  your  wall. 
Why,  you  could  do  it,  John.  Mort !  Mort !  hurry  up  with 
that  'ere  hod !  " 

Here  Bob  imitated  the  professional  cry  of  the  bricklayer 
with  startling  exactness.  There  was  not  a  fibre  about  him 
that  shrank  from  contact  with  labor,  or  from  the  rough  tus- 
sle by  which  a  poor  boy  must  win  his  foothold  in  the  world. 
I  would,  at  that  moment,  have  given  my  grammar  and  alge- 
bra (in  which  branches  he  was  lamentably  deficient)  for  a 
quarter  of  his  unconscious  courage.  A  wild  thought  flashed 
across  my  mind  :  I  might  also  be  a  bricklayer,  and  his  fel- 
low-apprentice !  Then  came  the  discouraging  drawback. 

"  But,  Bob,"  I  said,  "  the  bricks  are  so  rough.  I  don't 
like  to  handle  them." 

"  Should  n't  wonder  if  you  did  n't  Lookee  there ! " 
And  Bob  laid  my  right  hand  in  his  broad,  hard  palm,  and 
placed  his  other  hand  beside  it.  "  Look  at  them  two  hands ! 
they  're  made  for  different  kinds  o'  work.  There  's  my 
thick  fingers  and  broad  nails,  and  your  thin  fingers  and  nar- 
row nails.  You  can  write  a'most  like  copy-plate,  and  I  make 
the  roughest  kind  o'  pot-hooks.  The  bones  o'  your  fingers 
is  no  thicker  than  a  girl's.  I  dunno  what  I  'd  do  if  mine 
was  like  that." 

I  colored,  from  the  sense  of  my  own  physical  insignifi- 
cance. "  Oh,  Bob,"  I  cried,  "  I  wish  I  was  strong !  I  '11 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  11 

oave  to  get  my  own  living,  too,  and  I  don't  know  how  tc 
begin." 

"  Oh,  there  's  time  enough  for  you,  John,"  said  Bob,  con- 
solingly. "  You  need  n't  fret  your  gizzard  yet  awhile. 
There  's  teachin'  school  is  n't  so  bad  to  start  with.  You  '11 
soon  be  fit  to  do  it,  and  that 's  what  I  'd  never  be,  I  reckon  n 

We  went  into  the  little  hay-mow  over  the  stable,  and  sat 
down,  side  by  side,  in  the  dusky  recess,  where  our  only 
light  came  through  the  cracks  between  the  shrunk  clap- 
boards. Bob  had  brought  a  horse  to  the  smith  to  be  shod  al! 
round,  and  there  were  two  others  in  before  him  ;  so  he  could 
count  on  a  good  hour  before  his  turn  came.  It  might  be 
our  last  chat  together  for  a  long  time,  and  the  thought  of 
this  made  our  intercourse  more  frank  and  tender  than  usual. 

"  Tell  me,  Bob,"  said  I,  "  what  you  '11  do  after  you  've 
learned  the  trade." 

"  Why,  do  journey-work,  to  be  sure.  They  get  a  dollar 
and  a  half  a  day,  in  Phildelphy." 

"  Well.  —  after  that  ?  " 

"  Dunno.  P'raps  I  may  be  boss,  and  do  business  on  the 
wholesale.  Bosses  make  money  hand-over-fist.  I  tell 
you  what,  John,  I  'd  like  to  build  a  house  for  myself  like 
Rand's,  —  heavy  stone,  two  foot  thick,  and  just  such  big 
willy-trees  before  it,  —  a  hundred  acres  o'  land,  and  prime 
stock  on 't, ;  would  n't  I  king  it,  then !  Dad  's  had  a  hard 
time,  he  has,  —  only  sixty  acres,  you  know,  and  a  morgidge 
on  it  Don't  you  tell  nobody,  —  I  'm  agoin'  to  help  him 
pay  it  off,  afore  I  put  by  for  myself." 

I  had  not  the  least  idea  of  the  nature  of  a  mortgage,  but 
was  ashamed  to  ask  for  information.  Sometimes  I  had 
looked  down  on  Bob  from  the  heights  of  my  superior 
learning,  but  now  he  seemed  to  overtop  me  in  everything, — 
in  strength,  in  courage,  and  in  practical  knowledge.  For 
tho  first  time,  I  would  have  been  willing  to  change  places 
IT  h  him,  —  ah,  how  many  times  afterwards! 

When  we  weut  down  out  of  the  hay-mow  it  was  nearly 


12  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

evening,  and  I  hurried  back  to  our  cottage.  The  fire  which 
I  was  accustomed  to  make  in  the  little  back-kitchen  was  al- 
ready kindled,  and  the  table  set  for  supper.  Mother  was 
unusually  silent  and  preoccupied ;  she  did  not  even  ask  me 
where  I  had  been.  After  the  simple  meal  —  made  richer 
by  the  addition  of  four  of  Neighbor  Niles's  rusks  —  was 
over,  we  took  our  places  in  the  sitting-room,  she  with  her 
lap-board,  and  I  with  "  Sandford  and  Merton."  She  did 
not  ask  me  to  read  aloud,  as  usual,  but  went  on  silently 
and  steadily  with  her  sewing.  Now  and  then  I  caught  the 
breath  of  a  rising  sigh,  checked  as  soon  as  she  became 
conscious  of  it  Nearly  an  hour  passed,  and  my  eyelids 
began  to  grow  heavy,  when  she  suddenly  spoke. 

"  Put  away  the  book,  John.  You  're  getting  tired,  I  see, 
and  we  can  talk  a  little.  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

I  shut  the  book  and  turned  towards  her. 

"  It 's  time,  John,  to  be  thinking  of  making  something  of 
you.  In  four  or  five  years  —  and  the  time  will  go  by  only 
too  fast  —  you  '11  be  a  man.  I  'd  like  to  keep  you  here 
always,  but  I  know  that  can't  be.  I  must  n't  think  of  my- 
self :  I  must  teach  you  to  do  without  me." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  do  without  you,  mother  !  "  I  cried. 

u  I  know  it,  Johnny  dear  ;  but  you  must  learn  it,  never- 
theless. Who  knows  how  soon  I  may  be  taken  from  you  ? 
I  want  to  give  you  a  chance  of  more  and  better  schooling, 
because  you  're  scarcely  strong  enough  for  hard  work,  and 
I  think  you  're  not  so  dull  but  you  could  manage  to  get 
your  living  out  of  your  head.  At  least,  it  would  n't  be 
right  for  me  not  to  help  you  what  little  I  can.  I  've  looked 
forward  to  it,  and  laid  by  whatever  I  could,  —  dear  me,  it 's 
not  what  it  ought  to  be,  but  we  must  be  thankful  for  what 's 
allowed  us.  I  only  want  you  to  make  good  use  of  your 
time  while  it  lasts ;  you  must  always  remember  that  every 
day  is  an  expense,  and  that  the  money  was  not  easy  to  get* 

a  What  do  you  want  me  to  do,  mother  ?  "  I  asked,  aftel 
a  pause. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  18 

"  I  have  been  talking  with  Neighbor  Niles  about  it,  and 
she  seems  to  see  it  in  the  same  light  as  1  do.  She's  a 
good  neighbor,  and  a  sensible  woman.  Charley  Rand's 
lather  is  going  to  send  him  this  winter  to  iJr.  Dyinond's 
school,  a  mile  the  other  side  of  Honeybrook.  It 's  tb.e  best 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  I  would  n't  want  you  to  be  far 
away  from  me*  yet  awhile.  They  ask  seventy-five  dollars 
for  the  session,  but  Charley  goes  for  sixty,  having  his  wash- 
ing and  Sunday's  board  at  home.  It  seems  like  a  heap  of 
money,  John,  but  I  've  laid  away,  every  year  since  we  came 
here,  twenty  dollars  out  of  the  interest  on  the  fifteen  hun- 
dred your  father  left  me,  and  that 's  a  hundred  and  sixty. 
Perhaps  I  could  make  out  to  let  you  have  two  years' 
schooling,  if  I  find  that  you  get  on  well  with  your  studies. 
I  'in  afraid  that  I  could  n't  do  more  than  that,  because  1 
don't  want  to  touch  the  capital.  It 's  all  we  have.  Not 
that  you  would  n't  be  able  to  earn  your  living  in  a  few 
years,  but  we  never  know  what's  in  store  for  us.  You 
might  become  sickly  and  unable  to  follow  any  regular 
business,  or  I  " 

Here  my  mother  suddenly  stopped,  clasped  her  hands 
tightly  together,  and  turned  pale.  Her  lips  were  closed, 
as  if  in  pain,  and  I  could  see  by  the  tension  of  the  muscles 
of  her  jaws  that  the  teeth  were  set  hard  upon  each  other. 
Of  late,  I  had  several  times  noticed  the  same  action.  I 
could  not  drive  away  the  impression  that  she  was  endeavor- 
ing not  to  cry  out  under  the  violence  of  some  mental  or 
physical  torture.  After  a  minute  or  two,  the  rigidity  of 
her  face  softened ;  she  heaved  a  sigh,  which,  by  a  transition 
infinitely  touching,  resolved  itself  into  a  low,  cheerful 
laugh,  and  said, — 

"  But  there  's  no  use,  after  all,  in  worrying  ourselves 
by  imagining  what  may  never  happen.  Only  I  think  it 
best  not  to  touch  the  capital ;  and  now  you  know,  Johnny, 
what  you  have  to  depend  on.  There 's  the  money  that  I  Ve 
been  saving  for  you,  and  you  shall  have  the  benefit  of  it 


14  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

every  penny.  Some  folks  would  say  it 's  not  wisely  spent, 
but  it 's  you  must  decide  that  by  the  use  you  make  of  it 
If  I  can  see,  every  Saturday  night  when  you  come  home, 
that  you  know  a  little  more  than  you  did  the  week  before, 
£  shall  be  satisfied." 

I  was  already  glowing  and  tingling  with  delight  at  the 
prospect  held  out  to  me.  The  sum  my  mother  named 
seemed  to  me  enormous.  I  had  heard  of  Dr.  Dymond's 
school  as  a  paradise  of  instruction,  unattainable  to  common 
mortals.  The  boys  who  went  there  were  a  lesser  kind  of 
seraphs,  sitting  in  the  shade  of  a  perennial  tree  of  knowl- 
edge. With  such  advantages,  all  things  seemed  suddenly 
possible  to  me ;  and  had  my  mother  remarked,  "  I  expect 
you  to  write  a  book  as  good  as  'The  Children  of  the 
Abbey,'  —  to  make  a  better  speech  than  Colonel  McAllis- 
ter, —  to  tell  the  precise  minute  when  the  next  eclipse  of 
the  sun  takes  place,"  —  I  should  have  answered,  "  Oh,  of 
course." 

"  When  am  I  to  go  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  It  will  be  very  soon,  —  too  soon  for  me,  for  I  shall  find 
the  house  terribly  lonely  without  you,  John.  Charley 
Rand  will  go  in  about  three  weeks,  and  I  should  like  to 
have  you  ready  at  the  same  time." 

"  Three  weeks ! "  I  exclaimed,  with  a  joyous  excitement, 
which  I  checked,  feeling  a  pang  of  penitence  at  my  own 
delight,  as  I  looked  at  mother. 

She  was  bravely  trying  to  smile,  but  there  were  tears  in 
her  black  eyes.  One  of  her  puffs  fell  out  of  its  place  ;  I 
went  to  her  and  put  it  back  nicely,  as  I  had  often  done 
before,  —  I  liked  to  touch  and  arrange  her  hair,  when  she 
would  let  me.  Then  she  began  to  cry,  turning  away  her 
head,  and  saving,  "  Don't  mind  me,  Johnny ;  I  did  n't 
mean  to." 

It  cost  me  a  mighty  effort  to  say  it,  but  I  did  say,  —  "If 
you  'd  rather  have  me  stay  at  home,  mother,  I  don't  want 
to  go.  The  cow  must  be  milked  and  the  garden  looked 
liter,  anyhow.  I  did  n't  think  of  that" 


JOHN  GODIREY'S  FORTUNES.  15 

fc  But  I  did,  my  child,"  she  said,  wiping  her  eyes  with 
her  apron.  "  Neighbor  Niles  will  take  Muley,  and  give  me 
half  the  milk  every  day.  Then,  you  know,  as  you  will  no\ 
be  here  on  week-days,  I  shall  need  less  garden-stuff.  It's 
all  fixed,  and  must  n't  be  changed.  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
it  years  ago,  and  ought  to  be  thankful  that  I  've  lived  to 
carry  it  out.  Now,  pull  off  your  shoes  and  go  to  bed." 

I  stole  up  the  narrow,  creaking  ladder  of  a  staircase  to 
my  pigeon-hole  under  the  roof.  That  night  I  turned  over 
more  than  once  before  I  fell  asleep.  I  was  not  the  same 
boy  that  got  out  of  the  little  low  bed  the  morning  before, 
at.d  never  would  be  again. 


16  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  H. 

DESCRIBING    MY   INTRODUCTION    INTO    DR.    DTMOND'S 
BOARDING-SCHOOL. 

FROM  that  day  the  preparations  for  my  departure  went 
forward  without  interruption.  Mother  quite  recovered  her 
cheerfulness,  both  permitting  and  encouraging  my  glowing 
predictions  of  the  amount  of  study  I  should  perform  and 
the  progress  I  should  make.  The  jacket  was  finished,  still 
retaining  its  perverse  tendency  to  fly  open,  which  gave  me 
trouble  enough  afterwards.  I  had  also  a  pair  of  trousers 
of  the  same  material ;  they  might  have  been  a  little  baggy 
in  the  hinder  parts,  but  otherwise  they  fitted  me  very  well. 
A  new  cap  was  needed,  and  mother  had  serious  thoughts 
of  undertaking  its  construction.  My  old  seal-skin  was 
worn  bare,  but  even  a  new  one  of  the  same  material 
would  scarcely  have  answered.  Somebody  reported  from 
Honeybrook  that  Dr.  Dymond's  scholars  wore  stylish  caps 
of  blue  cloth,  and  our  store-keeper  was  therefore  commis- 
sioned to  get  me  one  of  the  same  kind  from  Philadelphia. 
He  took  the  measure  of  my  head,  to  make  sure  of  a  fit ;  yet, 
when  the  wonderful  cap  came,  it  proved  to  be  much  too 
large.  "  'T  will  all  come  right  in  the  end,  Mrs.  Godfrey," 
said  the  store-keeper ;  "  his  head  '11  begin  to  swell  when  he 's 
been  at  school  a  few  weeks."  Meanwhile,  it  was  carefully 
accommodated  to  my  present  dimensions  by  a  roll  of  paper 
inside  the  morocco  lining.  A  pair  of  kip-skin  boots  —  real 
top-boots,  and  the  first  T  ever  had  —  completed  my  outfit 
Compared  with  my  previous  experience,  T  was  gorgeously 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  17 

arrayed.  It  was  fortunate  that  my  Sundays  were  to  be 
spent  at  home,  as  a  second  suit,  much  less  a  better  one, 
was  quite  beyond  my  mother's  means. 

Mr.  Rand,  Charley's  father,  made  all  the  necessary  ar- 
rangements with  Dr.  Dymond,  and  kindly  offered  to  take 
me  over  to  the  school  in  his  "  rockaway,"  on  the  first  Mon- 
day of  November.  The  days  dragged  on  with  double  slow- 
ness to  me,  but  I  have  no  doubt  they  rushed  past  like  a 
whirlwind  to  mother.  I  did  everything  I  could  to  arrange 
for  her  comfort  during  my  absence,  —  put  the  garden  in 
winter  trim,  sawed  wood  and  piled  it  away,  sorted  the  sup- 
plies of  potatoes  and  turnips  in  the  cellar,  and  whatever 
else  she  suggested,  —  doing  these  tasks  with  a  feverish  haste 
and  an  unnecessary  expenditure  of  energy.  Whenever  I 
had  a  chance,  I  slipped  away  to  talk  over  my  grand  pros- 
pects with  Dave  Niles,  or  some  other  of  the  half-dozen  vil- 
lage boys  of  my  age.  I  felt  for  them  a  certain  amount  of 
commiseration,  which  was  not  lessened  by  their  sneers  at 
Dr.  Dymond's  school,  and  the  damaging  stories  which  they 
told  about  the  principal  himself.  I  knew  that  any  of  them  — 
unless  it  was  Jackson  Reanor,  the  tavern-keeper's  son  — 
would  have  been  glad  to  stand  in  my  new  boots. 

"  I  know  all  about  old  Dymond,"  said  Dave  ;  "  he  licks 
awfully,  and  not  always  through  your  trousers,  neither. 
Charley  Rand  'd  give  his  skin  if  he  had  n't  to  go.  His  fa- 
ther makes  him." 

"  Now,  that 's  a  lie,  Dave,"  I  retorted.  (We  boys  used 
the  simplest  and  strongest  terms  in  our  conversation.)  "  Old 
Rand  would  n't  let  Charley  be  licked  ;  you  know  he  took 
him  away  from  our  school  when  Mr.  Kendall  whacked  his 
hands  with  the  ruler." 

"  Then  he  '11  have  to  take  him  away  from  Dymond's  too, 
I  -guess,"  said  Dave.  "  Wait,  and  you  11  see.  Maybe 
there  '11  be  two  of  you." 

I  turned  away  indignantly,  and  went  to  see  Bob  Sim- 
mons, whose  hearty  sympathy  was  always  a  healing-plaster 
S 


18  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

for  the  moral  bruises  inflicted  by  the  other  boys.  Bob  was 
not  very  demonstrative,  but  he  had  a  grave,  common-sense 
way  of  looking  at  matters  which  sometimes  brought  me 
down  from  my  venturesome  flights  of  imagination,  but  left 
me  standing  on  firmer  ground  than  before.  When  I  first 
told  him  of  my  mother's  plan,  he  gave  me  a  thundering 
slap  on  the  back,  and  exclaimed, — 

'•  She  's  a  brick  !  It 's  the  very  thing  for  you,  Johnny. 
Come,  old  fellow,  you  and  me  '11  take  an  even  start,  —  your 
head  aginst  my  hands.  I  would  n't  stop  much  to  bet  on 
your  head,  though  I  do  count  on  my  hands  doin'  a  good  deal 
for  me." 

Finally  the  appointed  Monday  arrived.  I  was  to  go  in 
the  afternoon,  and  mother  had  dinner  ready  by  twelve 
o'clock,  so  that  Mr.  Rand  would  not  be  obliged  to  wait  a 
minute  when  he  called.  Her  plump  little  body  was  in  con- 
stant motion,  dodging  back  and  forth  between  the  kitchen 
and  sitting-room,  while  she  talked  upon  any  and  every  sub- 
ject, as  if  fearful  of  a  moment's  rest  or  silence.  "  It  will 
only  be  until  Saturday  night,"  she  repeated,  over  and  over 
again.  How  little  I  understood  all  this  intentional  bustle 
at  the  time,  yet  how  distinctly  I  recall  it  now. 

After  a  while,  there  was  a  cry  outside  of  "  Hallo,  the 
house ! " —  quite  unnecessary,  for  I  had  seen  Rand's  rocka- 
way  ever  since  it  turned  out  of  the  lane  beyond  Reanor's 
stables.  I  hastily  opened  the  door,  and  shouted,  "  I  'm  com- 
ing ! "  Mother  locked  the  well-worn,  diminutive  carpet- 
bag which  I  was  to  take  along,  gave  me  a  kiss,  saying 
cheerfully,  "  Only  till  Saturday  night  !  "  and  then  followed 
me  out  to  the  gate.  Mr.  Rand  and  Charley  occupied  the  only 
two  seats  in  the  vehicle,  but  there  was  a  small  wooden  stool 
for  me,  where  I  sat,  wedged  between  their  legs,  holding  the 
sarpet-bag  between  mine.  Its  contents  consisted  of  one 
shirt,  one  pair  of  stockings,  a  comb,  tooth-brush  and  piece 
of  soap,  a  box  of  blacking  and  a  brush.  I  had  never  heard 
of  a  night-shirt  at  that  time.  When  I  opened  the  bag,  aften 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  19 

wards.  I  discovered  two  fall  pippins  and  a  paper  of  cakes 
snugly  stowed  away  in  one  corner. 

"  Good-day.  Mrs.  Godfrey  ! "  said  Mr.  Rand,  squar 
ing  himself  on  his  seat,  and  drawing  up  the  reins  for  a 
start ;  "  I  '11  call  on  the  way  home,  and  tell  you  how  J 
left  'em." 

"  I  shall  be  so  much  obliged,"  my  mother  cried.     "  Do 
you   hear.  Johnny  ?     I  shall  have  word  of  you  to-night 
now,  good  -bye  !  " 

Looking  back  as  we  drove  away,  I  saw  her  entering  the 
cottage-door.  Then  I  looked  forward,  and  my  thoughts 
also  went  forward  to  the  approaching  school-life.  I  felt  the 
joy  and  the  fear  of  a  bird  that  has  just  been  tumbled  out 
of  the  nest  by  its  parent,  and  flatteringly  sustains  itself  on 
its  own  wings.  I  did  not  see.  as  I  now  can,  my  mother 
glance  pitifully  around  the  lonely  room  after  she  closed  the 
door ;  carefully  put  away  a  few  displaced  articles ;  go  to  the 
window  and  look  up  the  road  by  which  I  had  disappeared  ; 
and  then  sink  into  her  quaint  old  rocking-chair,  and  cry 
without  stint,  until  her  heart  recovers  its  patience.  Then  I 
see  her  take  up  the  breadths  of  a  merino  skirt  for  Mrs. 
Reanor,  and  begin  sewing  them  together.  Her  face  is  calm 
and  pale  ;  she  has  rearranged  her  disordered  puffs,  and 
seems  to  be  awaiting  somebody.  She  is  not  disappointed  :  the 
gate-latch  clicks,  the  door  opens,  and  good  Neighbor  Niles 
comes  in  with  a  half-knit  stocking  in  her  hand.  This  means 
tea,  and  so  the  afternoon  passes  cheerfully  away.  But  when 
the  fire  is  raked  for  the  night  on  the  kitchen-hearth,  mother 
looks  or  listens,  forgetting  afresh  every  few  minutes  that 
there  will  be  no  sleeper  in  the  little  garret-room  to-night : 
takes  up  her  lamp  with  a  sigh,  and  walks  wearily  into  her 
chamber  ;  looks  long  at  the  black  silhouette  of  my  father 
hung  over  the  mantel-piece  ;  murmurs  to  herself,  —  is  it  a 
prayer  to  Our  Father,  or  a  whisper  to  the  beloved  Spiri  ? 
—  and  at  last,  still  murmuring  words  whose  import  I  maj 
guess,  and  with  tears,  now  sad,  now  grateful,  lies  down  in 


20  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

her  bed  and  gives  her  soul  to  the  angels  that  protect  the 
holy  Sleep ! 

Let  me  return  to  my  own  thoughtless,  visionary,  confident 
self.  Charley  and  I  chattered  pleasantly  together,  as  we 
rode  along,  for,  although  he  was  no  great  favorite  of  mine, 
the  resemblance  in  our  destined  lot  for  the  next  year  or 
two  brought  us  into  closer  relations.  Being  ar  only  son, 
he  had  his  own  way  too  much,  and  sometimes  showed  him- 
self selfish  and  overbearing  towards  the  rest  of  us ;  but  I 
never  thought  him  really  ill-willed,  and  I  could  not  help 
liking  any  boy  (or  girl,  either)  who  seemed  to  like  me. 

Mr.  Rand  now  and  then  plied  us  with  good  advice,  which 
Charley  shook  off  as  a  duck  sheds  water,  while  I  received 
it  in  all  earnestness,  and  with  a  conscientious  desire  to  re- 
member and  profit  by  it.  He  also  enlarged  upon  our  fu- 
ture places  in  the  world,  provided  our  "  finishing "  at  the 
school  was  what  it  ought  to  be. 

"  I  don't  say  what  either  o'  you  will  be,  mind,"  he  said  ; 
'"  but  there  's  no  tellin'  what  you  might  n't  be.  Member  o' 
the  Legislatur'  —  Congress  —  President :  any  man  may  be 
President  under  our  institootions.  If  you  turn  out  smart 
and  sharp,  Charley,  I  don't  say  but  what  I  might  n't  let  you 
be  a  lawyer  or  a  doctor,  —  though  law  pays  best.  You, 
John,  '11  have  to  hoe  your  own  row ;  and  I  dunno  what 
you  're  cut  out  for,  —  maybe  a  minister.  You  've  got  a  sort 
o'  mild  face,  like  ;  not  much  hard  grit  about  you,  I  guess, 
but 't  a'n't  wanted  in  that  line." 

The  man's  words  made  me  feel  uncomfortable  —  the 
more  so  as  I  had  never  felt  the  slightest  ambition  to  become 
a  clergyman.  I  did  n't  quite  know  what  he  meant  by  "  hard 
grit,"  but  I  felt  that  his  criticism  was  disparaging,  con- 
trasted with  his  estimate  of  Charley.  My  reflection 
nrere  interrupted  by  the  latter  saying,  — 

"  I  'm  agoin'  to  be  what  I  like  best,  Pop  ! " 

I  said  nothing,  but  I  recollect  what  my  thoughts  were 
"  I  'm  going  to  be  what  I  can  ;  I  don't  know  what ;  but  it 
will  be  something" 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  21 

From  the  crest  of  a  long,  rolling  wave  of  farm-land  we 
now  saw  the  village  of  Honeybrook.  straggling  across  the 
bottom  of  a  shallow  valley,  in  the  centre  of  which,  hard 
against  the  breast  of  a  long,  narrow  pond,  stood  its  flour- 
and  saw-mills.  I  knew  the  place,  as  well  from  later  visits 
as  from  my  childish  recollections ;  and  I  knew  also  that  the 
heavy  brick  building,  buried  in  trees,  on  a  rise  of  ground 
off  to  the  northeast,  was  the  Honeybrook  Boarding-School 
for  Boys,  kept  by  Dr.  Dymond.  A  small  tin  cupola  (to 
my  boyish  eyes  a  miracle  of  architectural  beauty)  rose 
above  the  trees,  and  sparkled  in  the  sun.  Under  that 
magnificent  star  I  was  to  dwell. 

We  passed  through  the  eastern  end  of  the  village,  and  in 
another  quarter  of  an  hour  halted  in  a  lane,  at  one  end  of 
the  imposing  establishment.  Mr.  Rand  led  the  way  into 
the  house.  Charley  and  I  following,  carpet-bags  in  hand. 
An  Irish  servant-girl,  with  a  face  like  the  rising  moon, 
answered  the  bell,  and  ushered  us  into  a  reception-room  on 
the  right  hand  of  the  passage.  The  appearance  of  this 
room  gave  me  a  mingled  sensation  of  delight  and  awe. 
There  was  a  bookcase,  a  small  cabinet  of  minerals,  two 
large  maps  on  the  walls,  and  a  plaster  bust  of  Franklin  on 
the  mantel-piece.  The  floor  was  covered  with  oil-cloth, 
checkered  with  black  and  white  squares,  and  a  piece  of 
green  oil-cloth,  frayed  at  the  edges,  bedecked  the  table 
The  only  ornament  in  the  room  was  a  large  spittoon  of 
brown  earthen-ware.  Charley  and  I  took  our  seats  behind 
the  table,  on  a  very  slippery  sofa  of  horse-hair,  while  Mr. 
Rand  leaned  solemnly  against  the  mantel-piece,  making 
frequent  use  of  the  spittoon.  Through  a  side-door  we 
heard  the  unmistakable  humming  of  a  school  in  full  blast 

Presently  this  door  opened,  and  Dr.  Dymond  entered 
I  looked  with  some  curiosity  at  the  Jupiter  Tonans  whose 
nod  I  was  henceforth  to  obey.  He  was  nothing  like  so 
large  a  man  as  I  expected  to  see.  He  may  have  been  fifty 
years  old  t  his  black  hair  was  well  streaked  with  gray,  and 


22  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

he  stooped  slightly.  His  gray  eyes  were  keen  and  clear, 
and  shaded  by  bushy  brows,  his  nose  long  and  wedge* 
shaped,  and  his  lips  thin  and  firm.  He  was  dressed  in 
black  broadcloth,  considerably  glazed  by  wear,  and  his 
black  cravat  was  tied  with  great  care  under  a  very  high 
and  stiff  shirt-collar.  His  voice  was  dry  and  distinct,  his 
language  precise,  and  the  regular  play  of  his  lips,  from  the 
centre  towards  the  corners,  suggested  to  me  the  idea  that 
he  peeled  his  words  of  any  roughness  or  inaccuracy  as  they 
issued  from  his  mouth. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Rand  ?  "  h§  said,  bowing  blandly  and  shaking 
hands.  "And  these  are  the  boys  ?  The  classes  are  scarcely 
formed  as  yet,  but  we  shall  soon  get  them  into  the  right 
places.  How  do  you  do  ?  This  is  young  Godfrey,  I  pre- 
sume." 

He  shook  hands  with  us,  and  then  turned  to  Mr.  Rand, 
who  took  out  his  pocket-book  and  produced  two  small  rolls, 
one  of  which  I  recognized  as  that  which  mother  had  given 
to  him  when  we  left  home.  It  was  "  half  the  pay  in  ad- 
vance," in  accordance  with  the  terms  of  the  institution. 
Dr.  Dymond  signed  two  pieces  of  paper  and  delivered 
them  in  return,  after  which  he  announced :  — 

"  I  must  now  attend  to  my  school.  The  boys  may  remain 
in  the  family-parlor  until  tea,  when  they  will  join  the  other 
pupils.  They  will  commence  the  regular  course  of  study 
to-morrow  morning." 

He  ushered  us  across  the  passage  into  the  opposite  room, 
bade  good-bye  to  Mr.  Rand,  and  disappeared.  "  Well, 
boys,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  guess  it 's  all  ship-shape  now.  and 
I  can  go.  I  want  you  to  hold  up  your  heads  like  men,  and 
work  like  beavers."  He  shook  hands  with  Charley,  but 
only  patted  me  on  the  head,  which  I  did  n't  like  ;  so,  when 
Charley  ran  to  the  window  to  see  him  drive  down  the  lane, 
I  turned  my  back  and  began  examining  the  books  on  the 
table. 

There  were  >k  Dick's  Works."  and  Dr.  Lardner's  "  Scien- 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTLNES.  2.'5 

tific  Lectures,"  and  "  Redfield's  Meteorology',"  and  I  dont 
know  what  besides,  for,  stumbling  on  Mrs.  Somerville's 
u  Physical  Geography,"  I  opened  that,  and  commenced  read- 
ing. I  had  a  ravenous  hunger  for  knowledge,  and  my  op- 
portunities for  getting  books  had  been  so  few  that  scarcely 
anything  came  amiss.  Many  of  the  technical  terms  used  in 
the  book  were  new  to  me,  but  I  leaped  lightly  over  them, 
finding  plenty  of  stuff  to  keep  my  interest  alive. 

'•  I  say,  Jack,"  Charley  suddenly  called,  "  here  *s  one  of 
the  boys !  " 

My  curiosity  got  the  better  of  me.  I  laid  down  the  book, 
and  went  to  the  window.  A  lank  youth  of  about  my  own 
age,  with  short  brown  hair  and  sallow  face,  was  leaning 
against  the  sunny  side  of  a  poplar-tree,  munching  an  apple. 
From  the  way  in  which  he  made  the  tree  cover  his  body, 
and  the  furtive  glances  he  now  and  then  threw  towards  the 
house,  it  was  evident  that  he  was  not  pursuing  the  "  regular 
course  of  study."  "We  watched  him  until  he  had  finished 
the  apple  and  thrown  away  the  core,  when  he  darted  across 
to  the  nearest  corner  of  the  house,  and  crept  along  the 
wall,  under  the  very  window  at  which  we  were  standing. 
As  he  was  passing  it,  he  looked  up,  dodged  down  suddenly, 
looked  again,  and,  becoming  reassured,  gave  us  an  impu- 
dent wink  as  he  stole  away. 

We  were  so  interested  in  watching  this  performance 
that  a  sharp  -  Ahem!"  in  the  room,  behind  us,  caused  us 
both  to  start  and  blush,  with  a  sense  of  being  accessories  in 
the  misdemeanor.  I  turned  and  saw  an  erect,  sparely 
formed  lady  of  thirty-five,  whose  clouded  gray  eyes  looked 
upon  me  through  a  pair  of  gold-rimmed  spectacles.  Her 
hair  was  brown,  and  hung  down  each  side  of  her  face  in 
three  long  curls.  Her  gown  was  of  a  black,  rustling  stuff, 
which  did  not  seem  to  be  silk,  and  she  wore  a  broad  linen 
collar,  almost  like  a  boy's,  with  a  bit  of  maroon-colored 
nbbon  in  front.  If  I  were  an  artist,  I  am  sure  I  could 
draw  her  entire  figure  at  this  moment.  It  was  Miss  Hitch- 


24  JOHX  GODFREYS   FORTUNES. 

cock,  as  I  discovered  next  day, — a  distant  relathe,  1 
believe,  of  Dr.  Dymond,  who  assisted  him  in  teaching  the 
younger  boys,  and,  indeed,  some  of  the  older  ones.  Her 
specialty  was  mathematics,  though  it  was  said  that  she  was 
tolerably  well  versed  in  Latin  also. 

"  You  are  new  scholars,  young  gentlemen,  I  see,"  she 
remarked,  in  a  voice  notable,  like  Dr.  Dymond's.  for  its 
precise  enunciation.  "  May  I  ask  your  names  ?  " 

Charley  gave  his,  and  I  followed  his  example. 

"  Indeed  !  Godfrey  ?  A  mathematical  name !  Do  you 
inherit  the  peculiar  talent  of  your  famous  ancestor  ? " 

Her  question  was  utterly  incomprehensible  to  me.  I 
had  never  even  heard  of  Thomas  Godfrey  or  his  quadrant, 
and  have  found  no  reason,  since,  to  claim  relationship  with 
him.  I  had  a  moderate  liking  for  abstract  mathematics. 

O 

but  not  sufficient  to  be  developed,  by  any  possibility,  into  a 
talent  Consequently,  after  stammering  and  hesitating,  I 
finally  answered,  "  I  don't  know." 

"  We  shall  see,"  she  said,  with  a  patronizing,  yet  friendly 
air.  "•  How  far  have  you  advanced  in  your  mathematical 
studies  ?  " 

I  gave  her  the  full  extent  of  my  algebra. 

"  Do  you  know  Logarithms  ?  " 

Again  I  was  cruelly  embarrassed.  I  was  not  sure 
whether  she  meant  a  person  or  a  book.  Not  being  able  to 
apply  the  term  to  anything  in  my  memory,  I  at  last  an- 
swered in  the  negative. 

"  You  will  come  to  them  by  the  regular  progressive 
path.''  she  said.  "  Also  the  Differential  Calculus.  There 
I  envy  you  !  I  think  the  sense  of  power  which  you  feel 
when  you  have  mastered  the  Differential  Calculus  never 
can  come  twice  in  the  course  of  a  mathematical  curriculum. 
I  would  be  willing  to  begin  again,  if  I  were  certain  that 
I  should  experience  it  a  second  time."  Here  she  sighed, 
as  if  recalling  some  vanished  joy. 

For  my  part,  I  began  to  be  afraid  of  Miss  Hitchcock.     I 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  25 

had  never  encountered,  much  less  imagined,  such  a  prodigj 
of  learning.  I  despaired  of  being  able  to  understand  her ; 
how  she  would  despise  my  ignorance  when  she  discovered 
it )  I  afterwards  found  that,  although  she  was  very  fond  of 
expatiating  upon  mathematical  regions  into  which  few  of 
the  scholars  ventured,  she  was  a  very  clear  and  capita] 
instructress  when  she  descended  to  the  simpler  branches. 

Turning  from  me,  she  now  said  to  Charley,  "  Do  you 
share  your  friend's  taste  ?  " 

He  appeared  no  less  bewildered  than  myself;  but  he 
answered,  boldly,  "  Can't  say  as  I  do." 

"  Come  to  me,  both  of  you." 

She  took  a  seat,  and  we  approached  her  awkwardly,  and 
with  not  a  little  wonder.  She  stretched  forth  her  hands 
and  grasped  each  of  us  by  the  outer  arm,  stationed  us  side 
by  side,  and  looked  from  one  to  another.  "  Quite  a  differ- 
ence in  the  heads  ! "  she  remarked,  after  a  full  minute  of 
silent  inspection  :  "  Number  is  not  remarkably  developed 
in  either ;  Language  good  in  both ;  more  Ideality  here," 
(touching  me  on  one  of  the  temples,)  "  also  more  of  the 
Moral  Sentiment,"  (placing  a  hand  on  each  of  our  heads). 
Then  she  began  rubbing  Charley's  head  smartly,  over  the 
ears,  and  though  he  started  back,  coloring  with  anger,  she 
composedly  added,  "  I  thought  so,  —  Acquisitiveness  six 
plus,  if  not  seven." 

We  retired  to  our  seats,  not  at  all  edified  by  these  caba- 
listic sentences.  She  presently  went  to  a  bookcase,  glanced 
along  the  titles,  and,  having  selected  two  bulky  volumes, 
approached  us,  saying,  "  I  should  think  these  works  would 
severally  interest  you,  young  gentlemen,  judging  from  your 
developments." 

On  opening  mine,  I  found  it  to  be  "  Blair's  Rhetoric," 
while  Charley's,  as  I  saw  on  looking  over  his  shoulder  at 
the  title,  was  the  first  volume  of  "  McCulloch's  Commercial 
Dictionary."  For  herself  she  chose  a  volume  of  equal  size, 
containing  diagrams,  which,  from  their  irregular  form,  I  am 


26  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

now  inclined  to  think  must  have  been  geological.  Charley 
seemed  to  be  greatly  bored  with  this  literary  entertainmeni 
and  I  should  probably  have  been  equally  so,  had  I  nol 
found  couplets  and  scraps  of  poetry  on  turning  over  the 
leaves.  These  kernels  I  picked  out  from  the  thick  husks  of 
prose  in  which  they  were  wrapped,  and  relished. 

The  situation  was  nevertheless  tedious,  and  we  were 
greatly  relieved,  an  hour  later,  when  the  dusk  was  already 
falling,  to  hear  the  loud  sound  of  a  bell  echoing  through 
the  house.  Miss  Hitchcock  rose  and  put  away  her  book, 
and  we  were  only  too  glad  to  do  likewise.  The  regular 
tramp  of  feet  sounded  in  the  passage,  and  presently  an  im- 
mense noise  of  moving  chairs  came  from  the  adjoining  room 
dn  our  left.  The  door  of  this  room  opened,  and  Dr.  Dy- 
mond  beckoned  to  us.  On  entering,  we  beheld  two  long 
cables,  at  each  of  which  about  twenty  boys  or  young  men, 
of  all  ages  from  twelve  to  twenty-four,  were  seated.  Dr. 
Dymond,  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  the  first  table, 
pointed  out  to  us  two  vacant  seats  at  the  bottom  of  the  sec- 
ond, which  was  presided  over  by  Miss  Hitchcock.  All  eyes 
were  upon  us  as  we  walked  down  the  room,  and  I  know  I 
was  red  to  the  roots  of  my  hair ;  Charley  took  the  scrutiny 
more  easily.  It  was  not  merely  the  newness  of  the  expe- 
rience, though  that  of  itself  was  sufficiently  embarrass- 
ing, —  the  consciousness  of  my  new  clothes  covered  me 
awkwardly,  from  head  to  foot  I  saw  some  of  the  boys 
wink  stealthily  at  each  other,  or  thrust  their  tongues  into 
their  cheeks,  and  envied  the  brazen  stare  with  which  my 
companion  answered  them. 

No  sooner  had  we  taken  our  seats  than  Dr.  Dymond 
rapped  upon  the  table  with  the  handle  of  his  knife.  The 
forty  boys  immediately  fixed  their  eyes  upon  their  plates, 
and  a  short  grace  was  uttered  in  a  loud  tone.  At  its  con- 
clusion, the  four  Irish  maids  in  waiting  set  up  a  loud  rat- 
tling of  cups  and  spoons,  and  commenced  pitching  measures 
of  weak  tea  upon  the  table.  I  was  so  amazed  at  the  rapid- 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  27 

a\  and  apparent  recklessness  with  which  they  flung  the 
cups  down  beside  the  boys,  that  I  forgot  to  help  myself  to 
the  plate  of  cold  meat  until  all  the  best  pieces  were  gone, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  choose  between  a  few  fatty  scraps. 
This  dish,  with  some  country-made  cheese,  and  a  moder- 
ate quantity  of  bread  and  butter,  constituted  the  supper. 
When  Dr.  Dymond  had  finished,  he  clasped  his  hands 
over  his  stomach,  twirling  one  thumb  around  the  other, 
and  now  and  then  casting  a  sharp  glance  at  such  of  the 
boys  as  were  still  eating.  The  latter  seemed  to  have  a 
consciousness  of  the  fact,  for  they  hastily  crammed  the  last 
morsels  of  bread  into  their  mouths  and  gulped  down  half  a 
cup  of  tea  at  a  time.  In  a  few  moments  they  also  crossed 
their  knives  and  forks  upon  their  plates,  and  sat  erect  in 
their  chairs.  Thereupon  Dr.  Dymond  nodded  down  his 
table,  first  to  the  row  on  his  right  hand,  and  then  to  the 
row  on  his  left,  both  of  whom  rose  and  retired  in  the  same 
order.  Miss  Hitchcock  gave  a  corresponding  signal  to  our 
table,  and  I  found  myself,  almost  before  I  knew  it,  in  the 
school-room  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall.  Most  of  the 
boys  jerked  down  their  caps  from  the  pegs  and  rushed  out- 
of-doors,  being  allowed  half  an  hour's  recreation  before 
commencing  their  evening  studies.  With  them  went  Char- 
ley, leaving  me  to  look  out  for  myself.  Some  half-dozen 
youths,  all  of  them  older  than  I,  gathered  around  the  stove, 
and  I  sat  down  shyly  upon  a  stool  not  far  from  them,  and 
listened  to  their  talk.  Subjects  of  study,  village  news, 
the  private  scandal  of  the  school,  and  "  the  girls,"  were 
strangely  mingled  in  what  I  heard  ;  and  not  a  few  things 
caused  me  to  open  my  eyes  and  wonder  what  kind  of  fel- 
lows they  were.  I  had  one  comfort,  however  :  they  were 
evidently  superior  to  my  former  associates  at  the  Cross- 
Keys. 

As  they  did  not  seem  to  notice  me,  I  got  up  after  a  while 
and  looked  out  the  window  at  the  other  boys  playing. 
Charley  Rand  was  already  "hail-fellow  well-met  "  with  the 


28  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

most  of  them.     I  have  never  since  seen  his  equal  for  mak 
ing  acquaintances. 

It  was  not  long  before  a  few  strokes  of  the  bell  hanging 
under  the  tin  cupola  called  them  all  into  the  school-room. 
Lamps  were  lighted,  and  the  Principal  made  his  appear- 
ance. His  first  care  was  to  assign  desks  to  us,  and  I  was 
.1  little  disappointed  that  Charley  and  I  were  placed  at  dif- 
ferent forms.  I  found  myself  sandwiched  between  a  grave, 
plodding  youth  of  two-and-twenty,  and  a  boy  somewhat 
younger  than  myself,  who  had  a  disagreeable  habit  of  whis- 
pering his  lessons.  At  the  desk  exactly  opposite  to  me  sat 
a  boy  of  eighteen,  whose  face  struck  me  as  the  most  beau- 
tiful I  had  ever  seen,  yet  the  impression  which  it  produced 
was  not  precisely  agreeable.  His  head  was  nobly  balanced 
and  proudly  carried,  the  hair  black  and  crisply  curling,  the 
skin  uniform  as  marble  in  its  hue,  which  was  a  very  pale 
olive,  the  lips  full,  short,  and  scornfully  curved,  and  the  eyes 
large  and  bright,  but  too  defiant,  for  his  years,  in  their  ex- 
pression. Beside  him  sat  his  physical  opposite,  —  a  red- 
cheeked,  blue-eyed,  laughing  fellow  of  fourteen,  as  fresh 
and  sweet  as  a  girl,  but  with  an  imp  of  mischief  dodging 
about  his  mouth,  or  lurking  in  the  shadow  of  his  light- 
brown  locks.  I  had  not  been  at  my  desk  fifteen  minutes 
before  he  stealthily  threw  over  to  me  a  folded  slip  of  paper, 
on  which  he  had  written,  "  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

I  looked  up,  and  was  so  charmed  by  the  merry  brightness 
of  the  eyes  which  met  mine  that  I  took  a  pen  and  wrote, 
"  John  Godfrey.  What  is  yours  ?  " 

Back  came  the  answer,  —  "  Bill  Caruthers." 

It  was  several  days  before  I  discovered  why  he  and  all 
the  other  boys  who  heard  me  address  him  as  liill  Caruthers 
laughed  so  immoderately.  The  little  scamp  had  written  the 
name  of  my  grave  right-hand  neighbor,  his  own  name  be- 
ing Oliver  Thornton. 

There  was  no  recitation  in  the  evening,  so.  after  a  fe\* 
questions.  Dr.  Dymoncl  ordered  metoprepaiv  forthegran> 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  29 

mar  class  in  the  morning.  I  attended  to  the  task  conscion 
tiously,  and  had  even  gone  beyond  it  when  bedtime  came. 
The  Doctor  himself  mounted  with  us  to  the  attic-story 
which  was  divided  into  four  rooms,  containing  six  beds 
each.  I  had  expected  to  sleep  with  Charley  Rand,  and  was 
quite  dismayed  to  see  him  go  off  to  another  room  with  one 
of  his  new  playmates. 

I  stood,  meanwhile,  lonely  and  abashed,  with  my  little 
carpet-bag  in  hand,  in  the  centre  of  one  of  the  rooms,  with 
nine  boys  around  me  in  various  degrees  of  undress.  Dr. 
Dymond  finally  perceived  my  forlorn  plight. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  which  beds  here  are  not  filled.  You 
must  make  room  for  Godfrey." 

"  Whitaker's  and  Penrose's,"  answered  one,  who  sat  in 
his  shirt  on  the  edge  of  a  bed,  pulling  off  his  stockings. 

The  Doctor  looked  at  the  beds  indicated.  "  Where  's 
Penrose  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Here,  sir,"  replied  Penrose,  entering  the  room  at  that 
moment  It  was  my  vis-a-vis  of  the  school-room. 

"  Godfrey  will  sleep  with  you." 

Penrose  cast  an  indifferent  glance  towards  me,  and  pulled 
off  his  coat.  I  commenced  undressing,  feeling  that  all  the 
boys  in  the  room,  who  were  now  comfortably  in  bed,  were 
leisurely  watching  me.  But  Dr.  Dymond  stood  waiting, 
lamp  in  hand,  and  I  hurried,  with  numb  fingers,  to  get  off 
my  clothes.  "  A  slim  chance  of  legs,"  I  heard  one  of  the 
boys  whisper,  as  I  crept  along  the  further  side  of  the  bed 
and  stole  between  the  sheets.  Penrose  turned  them  down 
immediately  afterwards,  deliberately  stretched  himself  out 
with  his  back  towards  me,  and  then  drew  up  the  covering. 
Dr.  Dymond  vanished  with  the  lamp,  and  closed  the  door 
after  him. 

My  situation  was  too  novel,  and  —  let  me  confess  the  exact 
truth  —  I  was  too  frightened,  to  sleep.  I  had  once  or  twice 
passed  a  night  with  Bob  Simmons,  at  his  father's  house,  but 
with  this  exception  had  always  slept  alone.  The  silence 


30  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

and  indifference  of  my  bedfellow  troubled  me.  I  envied 
the  other  pairs,  who  were  whispering  together,  or  stifling 
their  laughter  with  the  bedclothes,  lest  the  Doctor  migh 
hear.  I  tucked  the  edges  of  the  sheet  and  blankets  undei 
me,  and  lay  perfectly  still,  lest  I  should  annoy  Penrose, 
who  was  equally  motionless.  —  but  whether  he  slept  or  not, 
I  could  not  tell.  My  body  finally  began  to  ache  from  the 
fixed  posture,  but  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  dared  to  turn, 
moving  an  inch  at  a  time.  The  glory  of  the  school  was 
already  dimmed  by  the  experience  of  the  first  evening,  and 
I  was  too  ignorant  to  foresee  that  my  new  surroundings 
would  soon  become  not  only  familiar,  but  pleasant  The 
room  was  silent,  except  for  a  chorus  of  deep  breathings, 
with  now  and  then  the  mutterings  of  a  boyish  dream,  l>e- 
fnre  I  fell  asleep. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  31 


CHAPTER  in. 

IN    WHICH    I    BEGIN    TO    LOOK    FORWARTV 

THE  bell  in  the  cupola  called  us  from  our  beds  at  the  first 
streak  of  dawn.  The  clang  awoke  me  with  a  start,  my 
sleep  having  been  all  the  more  profound  from  its  delay  in 
coming.  For  a  minute  or  two  I  could  not  imagine  where 
or  what  I  was,  and  even  when  the  knowledge  finally  crept 
through  my  brain,  and  I  had  thrust  my  spare  legs  out  from 
under  the  bedclothes,  1  mechanically  kept  my  head  bent 
down  lest  it  should  bump  against  the  rafters  in  my  garret 
at  home.  Penrose,  who  was  already  half  dressed,  seemed 
to  notice  this  ;  there  was  a  mocking  smile  on  his  handsome 
lips,  but  he  said  nothing.  The  other  boys  set  up  such  a 
clatter  that  I  Avas  overlooked,  and  put  on  my  clothes  with 
less  embarrassment  than  I  had  taken  them  oft'. 

We  then  went  down-stairs  to  a  large  shed  —  an  append- 
age to  the  kitchen  —  at  the  back  of  the  house.  There 
was  a  pump  in  the  corner,  and  some  eight  or  ten  tin  wash- 
basins ranged  side  by  side  in  a  broad,  shallow  trough.  Four 
endless  towrels,  of  coarse  texture,  revolved  on  rollers,  and 
there  was  much  pushing  and  hustling  among  the  boys  who 
came  from  the  basins  with  bent,  dripping  faces,  and  ex- 
tended, dripping  hands.  Towards  the  end  of  the  ablutions, 
as  the  dry  spots  became  rare,  the  revolution  of  the  towels 
increased,  and  the  last-comers  painfully  dried  themselves 
along  the  edges. 

There  was  a  fire  in  the  school-room,  but  the  atmosphere 
was  chilly,  and  the  dust  raided  by  the  broom  lay  upon  the 


32          JOHN  GODFREY  S  FORTUNES. 

desks.  My  neighbor  Caruthers,  however,  had  taken  his  sea^ 
and  was  absorbed  in  the  construction  of  a  geometrical  dia 

O 

giam.  I  made  a  covert  examination  of  him  as  1  took  my 
place  beside  him.  His  features  were  plain,  and  by  no  means 
intellectual,  and  I  saw  that  his  hands  were  large  and  hard, 
showing  that  he  was  used  to  labor.  I  afterwards  learned 
that  he  was  actually  a  carpenter,  and  that  he  paid  for  his 
winter's  instruction  by  the  summer's  earnings  at  his  trade. 
He  was  patient,  plodding,  and  conscientious  in  his  studies. 
His  progress,  indeed,  was  slow,  but  what  he  once  acquired 
was  never  lost.  In  the  course  of  time  a  quiet,  friendly  un- 
derstanding sprang  up  between  us  ;  perhaps  we  recognized 
a  similar  need  of  exertion  and  self-reliance. 

After  breakfast  the  business  of  the  school  commenced 
in  earnest  with  me.  Dr.  Dymond,  with  some  disqualifica- 
tions, had  nevertheless  correctly  chosen  his  vocation.  Look- 
ing back  to  him  now,  I  can  see  that  his  attainments  were 
very  superficial,  but  he  had  at  least  a  smattering  of  every 
possible  science,  a  clear  and  attractive  way  of  presenting 
what  he  knew,  and  great  skill  in  concealing  his  deficiencies. 
Though  he  was  rather  strict  and  exacting  towards  the 
school,  in  its  collective  character,  his  manner  was  usually 
friendly  and  encouraging  towards  the  individual  pupils. 
He  thus  preserved  a  creditable  amount  of  discipline,  with- 
out provoking  impatience  or  insubordination.  He  was  very 
fond  of  discoursing  to  us,  sometimes  for  an  hour  at  a  time, 
upon  any  subject  which  happened  temporarily  to  interest 
him  ;  and  if  the  regular  order  of  study  was  thereby  inter- 
rupted, I  have  no  doubt  we  wrere  gainers  in  the  end.  He 
had  the  knack  of  exciting  a  desire  for  knowledge,  which  is 
a  still  more  important  quality  in  a  teacher  than  that  of  im- 
parting it.  In  my  own  case,  I  know,  what  had  before  beeu 
a  vague  ambition  took  definite  form  and  purpose  under  the 
stimulus  of  his  encouragement 

With  the  exception  of  Miss  Hitchcock,  there  was  no  reg- 
ular assistant  One  of  the  oldest  pupils  took  charge  of  a 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  33 

dozen  of  the  youngest  scholars,  in  consideration  (as  was 
surmised  in  the  school)  of  being  received  as  a  boarder 
without  pay.  Mrs.  Dymond  —  or  Mother  Dyinond,  as  the 
boys  called  her  —  was  rarely  seen,  unless  a  scholar  hap- 
pened to  fall  sick,  when  she  invariably  made  her  appear- 
ance with  a  bowl  of  hot  gruel  or  herb-tea.  She  was  a  mild, 
phlegmatic  creature,  with  weak  eyes,  very  little  hair  on  week- 
days, and  an  elaborate  cap  and  false  front  on  Sundays.  She 
bad  no  children. 

My  first  timidity  on  entering  the  school  was  considerably 
alleviated  by  the  discovery  that  I  was  not  behind  any  of 
the  scholars  of  my  age  in  the  most  important  branches. 
Dr.  Dymond  commended  my  reading,  chirography,  and 
grammar,  and  gave  me  great  delight  by  placing  me  in  the 
"  composition  "  class.  I  had  a  blank  book  for  my  exercises, 
which  were  first  written  on  a  slate  and  then  carefully  copied 
in  black  and  white.  The  mysteries  of  amplification,  con 
densation,  and  transposition  fascinated  me.  I  don't  know 
in  how  many  ways  I  recorded  the  fact  that  "  Peter,  the 
ploughman,  ardently  loved  Mary,  the  beautiful  shepherd- 
ess." I  drew  the  stock  comparisons  between  darkness  anr! 
adversity,  sunshine  and  prosperity,  plunged  into  antithesis, 
and  clipped  away  pleonasms  with  a  boldness  which  aston- 
ished myself.  Pen  rose  was  in  the  same  class.  I  thought, 
but  it  may  have  been  fancy,  that  his  lip  curled  a  little  when 
I  went  forward  with  him  to  the  recitation.  He  looked  at  me 
gravely  and  steadily  when  my  turn  came  ;  I  felt  his  eye, 
and  my  voice  wavered  at  the  commencement.  It  seemed 
that  we  should  never  become  acquainted.  I  was  too  timid 
to  make  the  least  advance,  though  attracted,  in  spite  of  my- 
self, by  his  proud  beauty  ;  and  he  retained  the  same  air  of 
haughty  indifference.  At  night  we  lay  down  silently  side 
by  side,  and  it  was  not  until  the  fourth  morning  that  he  ad- 
dressed a  single  word  to  me.  I  heard  the  bell,  but  lingered 
for  one  sweet,  warm  minute  longer.  Perhaps  he  thought 
me  asleep ;  for  he  leaned  over  the  bed,  took  me  by  the 


84  JOHX   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

shoulder,  and  said,  "  Get  up  !  "  I  was  so  startled  that  I 
sprang  out  of  bed  at  one  bound. 

I  noticed  that  young  Thornton,  though  a  very  imp  of  mis- 
chief towards  the  other  boys,  never  dared  to  play  the  least 
prank  upon  Penrose.  Something  had  happened  between 
the  two,  during  a  previous  term,  but  what  it  was,  none  ex- 
cept themselves  knew.  No  one,  I  was  told,  could  cope 
with  Penrose  in  muscular  strength,  yet  there  was  nothing 
of  the  bully  about  him.  He  was  respected,  without  being 
popular ;  his  isolation,  unlike  that  of  Caruthers,  had  some- 
thing offensive  about  it.  I  was  a  little  vexed  with  myself 
that  he  usurped  so  prominent  a  place  in  my  thoughts  :  but 
so  it  was. 

Charley  Rand  took  on  the  ways  of  the  school  at  the 
start,  and  was  at  home  in  every  respect  before  two  clays 
were  over.  I  could  not  so  easily  adapt  myself  to  the  new 
circumstances,  but  slowly  and  awkwardly  put  off  my  first 
painful  feeling  of  embarrassment.  Fortunately,  before  the 
week  was  over,  another  new  scholar  was  introduced,  and 
he  served  at  least  to  turn  the  attention  of  the  school  away 
from  me.  I  was  older  than  he  by  three  days'  experience. 
—  a  fact  which  gave  me  a  pleasant  increase  of  confidence. 
Nevertheless,  the  time  wore  away  very  slowly  ;  months 
seemed  to  have  intervened  since  my  parting  with  my 
mother,  and  I  was  quite  excited  with  the  prospect  of 
returning,  when  the  school  was  dismissed,  early  on  Satur- 
day afternoon. 

"  Oh,  Charley  ! "  I  cried,  as  we  passed  over  the  ridge 
beyond  Honeybrook,  and  Dr.  Dymond's  school  sank  out  of 
sight,  *'  only  think  !  in  an  hour  we  shall  be  at  home." 

u  If 't  was  n't  for  the  better  grub  I  shall  get  Godfrey, 
I  'd  as  lief  stay  over  Sunday  with  the  boys,"  said  he.  He 
had  already  dropped  the  familiar  "  Jack,"  but  this  shocked 
me  less  than  his  indifference  to  the  homestead,  where,  I 
knew,  he  was  always  petted  and  indulged.  It  WHS  not 
long  before  I,  in  turn,  learned  to  call  him  "  liand." 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  3f 

He  continually  detained  me  by  stopping  to  search  fo\ 
chestnuts  in  the  edges  of  the  groves,  or  to  throw  stones  al 
the  squirrels  scampering  along  the  top-rails  of  the  fences. 
Finally  I  grew  impatient,  and  hurried  forward  alone,  foi 
the  houses  of  our  little  village  were  in  sight,  and  I  knew 
mother  would  be  expecting  me  every  moment.  I  felt  sure 
that  I  should  see  her  face  at  the  window,  and  considered  a 
moment  whether  I  should  not  jump  into  the  next  field  and 
cross  it  to  the  rear  of  our  garden,  so  as  to  take  her  by  sur- 
prise. I  gave  up  this  plan,  and  entered  by  the  front-door, 
but  I  still  had  my  surprise,  for  she  had  not  expected  me  so 
soon. 

"  Well,  mother,  have  you  been  very  lonely  ?  "  I  asked, 
as  soon  as  the  first  joyous  greeting  was  over. 

"  No,  Johnny,  not  more  than  I  expected  ;  but  it 's  nice 
to  have  you  back  again.  I  '11  just  see  to  the  kitchen,  and 
then  you  must  tell  me  everything." 

She  bustled  out,  but  came  back  presently  with  red 
cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  moved  her  chair  beside  mine, 
and  said,  "  Now  "  — 

I  gave  the  week's  history,  from  beginning  to  end,  my 
mother  every  now  and  then  lifting  up  her  hands  and  say- 
ing, "  You  don't  say  so  !  "  I  concealed  only  my  own  feel- 
ings of  strangeness  and  embarrassment,  which  it  was  mor- 
tifying enough  to  confess  to  myself.  The  account  I  gave 
of  the  studies  upon  which  I  had  entered  was  highly  satis- 
factory to  my  poor  mother,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  the 
pride  she  felt,  or  foresaw  she  should  feel,  in  my  advance- 
ment, helped  her  thenceforth  to  bear  her  self-imposed  sac- 
rifice. My  description  of  Miss  Hitchcock's  singular  ques- 
tions and  phrenological  remarks  seemed  to  afford  her  great 
pleasure,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  picture  which  I  drew  of 
Dr.  Dymond's  erudition  must  have  been  overwhelming. 

"  I  'm  glad  I  've  sent  you,  Johnny  ! "  she  exclaimed  when 
I  had  finished.  "  It  seems  to  be  the  right  place,  and  I 
don't  begrudge  the  money  a  bit.  if  it  helps  to  make  a  man 


36  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

of  you.  I've  been  more  troubled  this  week  on  your  account 
than  my  own.  Some  boarding-schools  are  rough  places  for 
a  boy  like  you,  that  has  n't  been  knocked  about  and  made 
to  fight  his  way.  I  was  afraid  I  'd  kept  you  too  long  at 
nome.  maybe,  but  I  guess  you  're  not  spoiled  yet,  —  are 
you  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  mother ! "  I  cried,  jumping  up  to  smooth 
one  of  her  puffs.  How  glad  I  was  of  the  bit  of  boyish 
swagger  which  had  so  happily  deceived  her. 

We  had  "  short  cakes  "  and  currant-jam  for  supper  that 
night.  How  cosy  and  delightful  it  was,  to  be  sure !  I  had 
brought  along  the  book  in  which  my  exercises  in  composi- 
tion were  written,  and  read  them  aloud,  every  one.  Poor 
mother  must  have  been  bewildered  by  the  transpositions  ; 
perhaps  she  wondered  what  upon  earth  it  all  meant ;  but 
she  said,  "  And  did  you  do  all  that  yourself?  "  with  an  air 
of  serious  admiration  which  made  my  heart  glow.  After 
supper,  Neighbor  Niles  came  in,  and  I  must  read  the 
exercises  all  over  again  for  her  benefit,  my  mother  every 
now  and  then  nodding  to  her  and  whispering,  "  All  his 
own  doing." 

"  It 's  a  deal  for  a  boy  o'  his  age,"  said  Neighbor  Niles ; 
"  though,  for  my  part,  I  've  got  so  little  book-larnin',  that  I 
can't  make  head  nor  tail  of  it.  Neither  my  old  man  nor 
my  boys  takes  to  sich  things.  Brother  Dan'l,  —  him  that 
went  out  to  the  backwoods,  you  know,  comin'  ten  year  next 
spring,  — he  writ  some  verses  once't  on  the  death  of 'Lijah 
Sykes,  cousin  by  the  mother's  side,  that  was — but  I  dis« 
remember  'em,  only  the  beginnin' :  — 

"  Little  did  his  parents  think,  and  little  did  his  parents  know, 
That  he  should  so  soon  be  called  for  to  go." 

If  Dan'l  'd  ha'  had  proper  schoolin',  he  might  ha'  been  the 
schollard  o'  the  fam'ly.  When  Johnny  gits  a  little  furder, 
I  should  n't  wonder  if  he  could  write  somethin'  about  my 
Becky  Jane,  —  somethin'  short  and  takin',  that  we  could 


JOHN    3ODFREVS   FOUTLNES.  37 

have  cut  on  her  tombstone.  You  know  it  costs  three  cent* 
a  letter." 

"  Think  of  that,  Johnny  ! "  cried  my  mother,  trium- 
phantly :  "  if  you  could  do  that,  now !  Why,  people  would 
read  it  long  after  you  and  I  are  dead  and  gone  !  " 

My  ambition  was  instantly  kindled  to  produce,  in  the 
course  of  time,  a  "  short  and  takin'  "  elegy  on  Becky  Jane. 
This  was  my  first  glimpse  of  a  possible  immortality.  I 
looked  forward  to  the  day  when  my  fame  should  be  estab- 
lished in  every  household  of  the  Cross-Keys,  to  be  freshly 
revived  whenever  there  was  a  funeral,  and  the  inscriptions 
on  the  tombstones  were  dutifully  read.  Perhaps,  even,  I 
might  be  heard  of  in  Honeybrook,  and  down  the  Phila- 
delphia road  as  far  as  Snedikersville  !  There  was  no  end 
to  the  conceit  in  my  abilities  which  took  possession  of  me  ; 
I  doubt  whether  it  has  ever  since  then  been  so  powerful. 
When  I  went  into  the  garden  the  next  morning,  I  looked 
with  contempt  at  the  little  corner  behind  the  snowball- 
bush.  What  a  boy  I  had  been  but  a  few  weeks  ago !  — and 
now  I  was  a  man,  or  the  next  thing  to  it.  I  instinctively 
straightened  myself  in  my  new  boots,  and  felt  either  cheek 
carefully,  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  nascent  down  ;  but.  alas  . 
none  was  perceptible.  Bob  Simmons  told  me  in  confidence, 
the  last  time  we  met,  that  the  hostler  at  the  Cross- Keys  hud 
shaved  both  him  and  Jackson  lieanor,  and  had  predicted 
that  he  would  soon  have  a  beard.  I  must  wait  another 
year,  I  feared,  for  this  evidence  of  approaching  manhood. 

Bob,  I  found,  was  not  to  commence  his  apprenticeship 
until  early  in  the  spring.  I  longed  to  see  him  and  talk 
over  my  school  experiences,  but  I  was  not  thoughtless 
enough  to  leave  mother  during  my  first  Sunday  at  home, 
especially  as  I  saw  that  the  dear  little  woman  was  becom- 
ing more  and  more  reconciled  to  the  change.  The  daj 
was  passed  in  a  grateful  quiet,  and  we  went  early  to  bed, 
in  order  that  I  might  rise  by  daybreak,  and  be  ready  to 
join  Charley  Rand. 


38  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

Thus  week  after  week  of  the  new  life  went  by,  until  th« 
pangs  of  change  were  conquered  to  both  of  us.  I  began  tc 
put  forth  new  shoots,  like  a  young  tree  that  has  been  taker 
from  a  barren  hill-side  and  set  in  the  deep,  mellow  soil  of  a 
garden.  My  progress  for  a  time  was  astonishing,  for  all 
the  baffled  desires  of  my  later  childhood  became  so  many 
impelling  forces.  Mother  soon  ceased  to  be  the  oracle  she 
had  once  been  ;  but  I  think  she  felt  this  (if,  indeed,  she 
was  aware  of  it)  as  one  joy  the  more.  Her  hope  was  to 
look  up  to  and  be  guided  by  me.  She  possessed  simply 
the  power  of  enduring  adverse  circumstances,  not  the 
energy  necessary  to  transform  them.  In  my  advancement 
she  saw  her  own  release  from  a  maternal  responsibility, 
always  oppressive,  though  so  patiently  and  cheerfully  borne. 

The  books  I  required  were  an  item  which  had  been  over 
looked  in  her  estimate  of  the  expenses,  and  we  had  many 
long  and  anxious  consultations  on  this  subject.  I  procured 
a  second-hand  geometry,  at  half-price,  from  Walton,  the 
young  man  who  taught  for  his  board,  and  so  got  on  with 
ny  mathematics ;  but  there  seemed  no  hope  of  my  being 
ible  to  join  the  Latin  class,  for  which  three  new  books  were 
required,  at  the  start.  By  Christmas,  however,  mother 
raised  the  necessary  funds,  having  obtained,  as  I  afterwards 
discovered,  a  small  advance  upon  the  annual  interest  of  the 
fifteen  hundred  dollars,  which  was  not  due  until  April.  This 
money  had  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  her  brother-in-law, 
Mr.  Amos  Woolley,  a  grocer,  in  Reading,  for  investment 
She  had  never  before  asked  for  any  part  of  the  sum  in  ad- 
vance, and  I  suspect  it  was  not  obtained  without  some  dif- 
ficulty. 

Dr.  Dymond  was  too  old  a  teacher  to  let  his  preferences 
be  noticed  by  the  scholars,  but  I  knew  that  both  he  and 
Miss  Hitchcock  were  kindly  disposed  towards  me.  He  was 
fond  of  relating  anecdotes  of  Franklin,  Ledyard,  Fulton, 
and  other  noted  men  who  had  risen  from  obscurity,  and  in- 
citing his  pupils  to  imitate  them.  Whatever  fame  the  lattei 


JOHX   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  SI 

might  achieve  tvould  of  course  be  reflected  upon  him  and  his 
school.  The  older  boys  —  who  were  mostly  plodding  youths 
of  limited  means,  ambitious  of  culture  —  were  also  friendly 
and  encouraging,  and  I  associated  almost  exclusively  with 
them.  The  pranks  of  the  younger  ones  were  no  longer 
formidable,  since  there  was  so  little  opportunity  of  their 
practical  application  to  me.  I  had  spirit  enough  to  resent 
imposition,  and  my  standing  as  a  scholar  prevented  me  from 
becoming  a  butt  suitable  for  torment :  so,  upon  the  whole, 
I  was  tolerably  happy  and  satisfied,  even  without  the  exist- 
ence of  an  intimate  friendship.  My  childish  faith  in  the 
truth  and  goodness  of  everybody  had  not  yet  been  shaken. 

Punctually,  every  Saturday  afternoon,  Charley  and  I  re- 
turned to  the  Cross-Keys,  on  foot  when  the  weather  was 
good,  and  in  Mr.  Rand's  "  rockaway  "  when  there  was  rain 
or  mud.  For  three  weeks  in  succession  the  sleighing  was 
excellent,  and  then  we  had  the  delight  of  a  ride  both  ways, 
—  once  (shall  I  ever  forget  it?)  packed  in  with  the  entire 
Rand  family,  Emily,  Charley,  and  myself  on  the  front  seat, 
with  our  arms  around  each  other  to  keep  from  tumbling  off. 
Emily  was  very  gracious  on  this  occasion  ;  I  suppose  my 
blue  cap  and  gray  jacket  made  a  difference.  She  wore  a 
crimson  merino  dress,  which  I  thought  the  loveliest  thing  I 
had  ever  seen,  and  the  yellow  ringlets  gushed  out  on  either 
side  of  her  face,  from  under  the  warm  woollen  hood.  We 
went  home  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  I  forgot  my  car- 
pet-bag, on  reaching  the  front  gate,  but  Charley  flung  it 
into  Niles's  yard. 

I  find  myself  lingering  on  these  little  incidents  of  my 
boyhood,  —  clinging  to  that  free,  careless,  confident  period, 
as  if  reluctant  to  inarch  forward  into  the  region  of  disen- 
chantments.  The  experiences  of  boys  differ  perhaps  as 
widely  as  those  of  men,  but  they  float  on  a  narrow  stream, 
and,  though  some  approach  one  bank  and  some  the  other, 
the  same  features  are  visible  to  all.  How  different  from 
the  open  sea,  where  millions  of  keels  pass  and  repass  daj 


40  JOHN   GODFREY'S  tfORTDNES. 

and  night,  rarely  touching  the  moving  circles  of  each  other*! 
horizons,  —  some  sailing  in  belts  of  prosperous  wind,  be- 
tween the  tracks  of  tempest,  —  some  foundering  alone,  just 
out  of  sight  of  the  barks  that  would  have  flown  to  their  res- 
cue !  I  must  not  forget  that  the  details  of  my  early  history 
are  naturally  more  interesting  to  myself  than  to  the  reader 
and  that  he  is  no  more  likely  to  deduce  the  character  of  my 
later  fortunes  from  them  than  I  was  at  the  time.  Even  in 
retrospect,  we  cannot  always  decipher  the  history  of  our 
Jives.  The  Child  is  Father  of  the  Man,  it  is  true  :  but  few 
sons  are  like  their  fathers. 

The  only  circumstance  which  has  left  a  marked  impres- 
sion upon  my  memory  occurred  towards  the  close  of  the 
winter.  Both  Dr.  Dymond  and  Miss  Hitchcock  were 
obliged  to  leave  the  school  one  afternoon,  on  account  of 
some  important  occurrence  in  Honeybrook,  —  I  think  a  fu- 
neral, though  it  may  have  been  a  wedding.  Walton  was 
therefore  placed  at  the  central  desk,  on  the  platform,  and 
we  were  severely  enjoined  to  preserve  order  during  the  ab- 
sence of  the  principal.  We  sat  very  quietly  until  the  Doc- 
tor's carriage  was  seen  to  drive  away  from  the  door,  where- 
upon Thornton,  Rand,  and  a  number  of  the  other  restless, 
mischievous  spirits  began  to  perk  up  their  heads,  exchange 
winks  and  grins,  and  betray  other  symptoms  of  revolt. 
Walton  knew  what  was  coming :  he  was  a  meek,  amiable 
fellow,  sweating  under  his  responsibility,  and  evidently  be- 
wildered as  to  the  course  he  ought  to  pursue.  He  knit  his 
brows  and  tried  to  look  very  severe ;  but  it  was  a  pitiful  sham, 
which  deceived  nobody.  Thornton,  who  had  beeij  dodging 
about  and  whispering  among  his  accomplices,  immediately 
imitated  poor  Walton's  expression.  The  corrugation  of  his 
brows  was  something  preternatural.  The  others  copied  his 
example,  and  the  aspect  of  the  school  was  most  ludicrous. 
Still,  theie  had  been  no  palpable  violation  of  the  rules,  and 
Walton  was  puzzled  what  to  do.  To  notice  the  caricature 
would  be  to  acknowledge  its  correctness.  He  dre  w  his  lefl 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  41 

shoulder  up  against  his  ear  and  thrust  his  right  hand  intc 
his  back  hair,  —  a  habit  which  was  known  to  the  school.  A 
dozen  young  scamps  at  once  did  the  same  thing,  but  with 
extravagant  contortions  and  grimaces. 

The  effect  was  irresistible.  There  was  a  rustling  and 
ghaking  of  suppressed  laughter  from  one  end  of  the  school- 
room to  the  other  —  the  first  throes  of  an  approaching 
chaos.  For  the  life  of  me,  I  could  not  help  joining  in  it. 
though  sympathizing  keenly  with  Walton's  painful  position. 
Ihs  face  flushed  scarlet  as  he  looked  around  the  room  ;  but 
the  next  instant  he  became  very  pale,  stood  up,  and  after 
one  or  two  convulsive  efforts  to  find  a  voice,  —  which  was 
very  unsteady  when  it  came,  —  addressed  us. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  you  know  this  is  n't  right  I  did  n't 
take  Dr.  Dymond's  place  of  my  own  choice.  I  have  n't  got 
his  authority  over  you,  but  you  'd  be  orderly  if  he  was  here, 
and  he  's  asked  you  to  be  it  while  he  's  away.  It 's  his  rule 
you  're  breaking,  not  mine.  I  can't  force  you  to  keep  it, 
but  I  can  say  you  're  wrong  in  not  doing  it  I  'm  here  to 
help  any  of  you  in  your  studies  as  far  as  I  can,  and  I  '11  at- 
tend to  that  part  faithfully  if  you  '11  all  do  your  share  in 
keeping  order." 

He  delivered  these  sentences  slowly,  making  a  long  pause 
between  each.  The  scholars  were  profoundly  silent  and 
attentive.  Thornton  and  some  of  the  others  tried  a  few 
additional  winks  and  grimaces,  but  they  met  \*ith  no  en- 
couragement ;  we  were  waiting  to  see  what  vould  come 
next  When  Walton  finally  sat  down  he  had  evidently  lit- 
tle hope  that  his  words  would  produce  much  effect  ;  and 
indeed  there  was  no  certainty  that  the  temporary  quiet 
would  be  long  preserved. 

We  were  all,  therefore,  not  a  little  startle*!  when  Pen- 
rose  suddenly  arose  from  his  seat  and  said,  in  a  clear,  firm 
voice,  —  "I  am  sure  I  speak  the  sentiments  of  all  my  fel- 
low-scholars, Mr.  Walton,  when  I  say  that  we  will 
order." 


12  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

The  older  boys  nodded  their  assent  and  resumed  then 
studies.  Thornton  hung  down  his  head,  and  seemed  to 
have  quite  lost  his  spirits  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  But  the 
business  of  the  school  went  on  like  clock-work.  I  don't 
think  we  ever  had  so  quiet  an  afternoon. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  4S 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CONTAINING  KKATS  IX  THE  CKLLAR  AND  CONVERSATIONS 
UPON  THE  ROOF. 

WITH  the  end  of  March  the  winter  term  of  the  school 
came  to  a  close.  I  had  established  my  position  as  an  apt 
and  rapidly  advancing  scholar  ;  others  had  the  start  of  me. 
but  no  one  made  better  progress.  I  had  mastered,  among 
other  things,  Geometry  and  a  Latin  epitome  of  Sacred  His- 
tory. The  mystic  words  — "  Deus  creacit  c<elum  et  terrain" 
—  which  I  had  approached  with  wonder  and  reverence,  as 
if  they  had  been  thundered  out  of  an  unseen  world,  were 
now  become  as  simple  and  familiar  as  anything  in  Peter 
Parley.  Miss  Hitchcock,  with  the  air  of  a  queen  conferring 
the  order  of  the  Shower-Bath,  promised  me  Cornelius  Ne- 
pos  and  Fluxions  for  the  summer  term ;  and  Dr.  Dymond 
hinted  to  the  composition-class  that  we  might  soon  try  our 
hands  at  original  essays.  Something  was  also  said  about  a 
debating  club.  The^  perspective  lengthened  and  brightened 
with  every  forward  step. 

The  close  of  the  term  was  signalized  by  a  school  exhi- 
bition, to  which  were  invited  the  relatives  of  the  pupils  and 
the  principal  personages  in  Honeybrook.  —  two  clergymen, 
the  doctor,  the  "  squire,"  the  teacher  of  the  common  school, 
and  six  retired  families  of  independent  means.  To  mosl 
of  us  b'yjs  it  was  both  a  proud  and  solemn  occasion.  I  was 
bent  upon  having  mother  to  witness  my  performance,  and 
hoped  she  could  come  with  the  Rands,  but  their  biggest 
and  best  carriage  would  hold  no  more  than  themselves. 
At  the  last  moment  Neighbor  Niles  made  the  offer  of  UP 


14  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

ancient  horse  and  vehicle,  which  she  used  for  her  on n  oc 
casional  visits  in  the  neighborhood.  As  the- horse  had  fre- 
quently been  known  to  stop  in  the  road,  but  never,  of  his 
own  will,  to  go  faster  than  a  creeping  walk,  it  was  con- 
sidered safe  for  mother  to  drive  him  over  alone  and  take 
ne  home  with  her  for  my  month's  vacation. 

At  the  appointed  time  she  made  her  appearance,  dressed 
in  the  brown  silk  that  dated  from  her  wedded  days,  and  the 
venerable  crape  shawl  which  had  once  covered  the  shoul- 
ders of  Aunt  Christina.  She  was  quite  overawed  on  being 
presented  to  Dr.  Dymond  and  Miss  Hitchcock,  but  made 
speedy  acquaintance  with  Mother  Dymond,  and,  indeed, 
took  a  seat  beside  her  in  the  front  row  of  spectators.  The 
exercises  were  very  simple.  Specimens  of  our  penmanship 
and  geometrical  diagrams  (which  few  of  the  guests  under- 
stood) were  exhibited  ;  we  were  drilled  in  mental  arithme- 
tic, and  answered  chemical,  pneumatic,  hydraulic,  and  astro- 
nomical questions.  But  the  crowning  pride  and  interest  of 
the  day  was  reserved  for  the  declamations,  in  which  at  least 
half  the  pupils  took  part.  From  the  classic  contents  of  the 
"  Columbian  Orator,"  we  selected  passages  from  Robert 
Emmet,  William  Pitt,  Patrick  Henry,  and  Cicero ;  Byron, 
Joel  Barlow,  and  Milton  ;  Addison  and  Red  Jacket.  Dr. 
Dymond  assigned  to  me  the  part  of"  David,"  from  Hannah 
More's  dramatic  poem.  I  did  n't  quite  like  to  be  addressed 
as  "  girl !  "  by  Bill  Dawson,  —  the  biggest  boy  in  the  school, 
who  was  Goliath,  —  or  to  be  told  to 

"Go, 

And  hold  fond  dalliance  with  the  Syrian  maids : 
To  wanton  measures  dance;  and  let  them  braid 
The  bright  luxuriance  of  thy  golden  hair," — 

especially  as  Thornton  and  the  younger  fellows  snickered 
when  he  came  to  the  last  line.  My  hair  might  still  have 
had  a  reddish  tinge  where  the  sun  struck  across  it,  but  it 
was  growing  darker  from  year  to  year.  I  gave  it  back  to 
Goliath,  however,  when  it  came  to  my  turn  to  say,  — 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  45 

"  I  do  defy  thee, 
Thou  foul  idolater!  " 

or  when,  dilating  into  prophecy,  I  screamed,  — 

"  Nor  thee  alone,  — 

The  mangled  carcasses  of  your  thick  hosts 
Shall  spread  the  plains  of  Elah  !  " 

I  think  I  produced  an  effect.  I  know  that  mother  looked 
triumphant  when  I  swung  a  piece  of  leather  with  nothing 
in  it,  and  Bill  Dawson  tumbled  full  length  on  the  platform, 
occasioning  mild  exclamations  and  shuddering  among  the 
female  spectators ;  and  I  fancied  that  Emily  Rand  (in  the 
crimson  merino)  must  have  been  favorably  impressed.  I 
certainly  made  a  better  appearance  than  Charley,  who 
rushed  through  his  share  of  the  debate  in  the  Roman  Sen- 
ate, in  this  wise, — 

••  ^I  \thoughtslmustconfessareturnedonpeace.'' 

The  great,  the  auspicious  day  of  Cato  and  of  Rome  came 
to  an  end.  I  said  good-bye  to  the  boys :  Caruthers  was  go- 
ing off  to  his  carpenter-work,  and  would  not  return.  I  liked 
him  and  was  sorry  to  lose  him.  We  never  met  again,  but 
I  have  since  heard  of  him  as  State  senator  in  a  Western 
capital.  Even  the  dark  eyes  of  Penrose  looked  upon  me 
kindly  as  he  shook  hands,  bestowing  a  side-bow,  as  he  did 
so,  upon  my  mother.  Miss  Hitchcock  gave  me  a  parting 
injunction  of  '•  Remember,  Godfrey  !  — Fluxions  and  Cor- 
nelius Nepos  !  "  and  so  we  climbed  into  the  creaking  vehi- 
cle and  set.  off  homewards. 

We  might  have  walked  with  much  more  speed  and  com- 
fort The  horse  took  up  and  put  down  his  feet  as  gently 
as  if  he  were  suffering  from  corns ;  at  the  least  rise  in  the 
road  he  stopped,  looked  around  at  us,  and  seemed  to  expect 
us  to  alight,  heaving  a  deep  sigh  when  forced  to  resume  his 
march.  Then  he  had  an  insane  desire  of  walking  in  the 
gutter  on  the  left  side  of  the  road,  and  all  my  jerking  of 
the  reins  and  flourishing  of  a  short  dogwood  switch  pro- 
duced not  the  slightest  effect.  He  merely  whisked  his 


46  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

stumpy  tail,  as  much  as  to  say,  •'  That  for  you  !  We 
reached  the  Cross-Keys  at  last,  long  after  sunset ;  but  the 
abominable  beast,  who  had  been  so  ready  to  stop  anywhere 
on  the  way,  now  utterly  refused  to  be  pulled  up  at  our  gate, 
and  mother  was  obliged  to  ride  on  to  the  bars  it  the  end 
of  Niles's  lane,  before  she  could  get  down.  Our  good 
Neighbor  thereupon  sallied  out  and  took  us  in  to  tea ;  so 
the  end  of  the  journey  was  pleasant. 

The  vacation  came  at  a  fortunate  time.  I  succeeded  in 
getting  our  garden  into  snug  trim  :  the  peas  were  stuck  and 
the  cabbages  set  out  before  my  summer  term  commenced  ; 
nor  were  the  studies  neglected  which  I  had  purposed  to 
continue  at  home.  Bob  Simmons  had  finally  left,  and  1 
missed  him  sadly  :  Rand's  great  house,  whither  I  was  now 
privileged  to  go  occasionally,  with  even  the  attraction  of 
Emily,  could  not  fill  up  the  void  left  by  his  departure.  I 
was  not  sorry  when  the  month  drew  to  an  end.  The  little 
cottage  seemed  to  have  grown  strangely  quiet  and  lonely  , 
my  nest  under  the  roof  lost  its  charm,  except  when  the 
April  rains  played  a  pattering  lullaby  upon  the  shingles ; 
looking  forward  to  Cornelius  Nepos  and  Fluxions,  I  no 
longer  heard  my  mother's  antiquated  stories  with  the  same 
boyish  relish,  and  something  of  this  new  unrest  must  have 
betrayed  itself  in  my  habits.  I  never,  in  fact,  thought  of 
concealing  it  —  never  dreamed  that  my  mind,  in  breaking 
away  from  the  government  of  home  ideas  and  associa- 
tions, could  give  a  pang  to  the  loving  heart,  for  which  I 
was  all,  but  which,  seemingly,  was  not  all  for  me. 

I  returned  to  Dr.  Dymond's  with  the  assured,  confident 
air  of  a  boy  who  knows  the  ground  upon  which  he  stands. 
My  relations  with  the  principal  had  been  agreeable  from 
the  commencement,  and  the  contact  with  my  fellow-stu- 
dents had  long  since  ceased  to  inspire  me  with  shyness  or 
dread.  I  had  many  moderate  friendships  among  them,  but 
was  strongly  attracted  towards  none,  except,  perhaps,  him 
whose  haughty  coldness  repelled  me.  I  was  a  t  a  loss,  then,  to 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  47 

comprehend  this  magnetism :  now  it  has  ceased  to  be  obscure 
I  was  impressed,  far  more  powerfully  than  I  suspected,  by 
his  physical  beauty.  Had  those  short,  full,  clearly-cut  lips 
smiled  upon  me,  I  should  not  have  questioned  whether  the 
words  that  came  from  them  were  good  or  evil.  His  influ- 
ence over  me  might  have  been  boundless,  if  he  had  so 
willed  it  —  but  he  did  not.  The  tenderer  shoots  of  feeling 
were  nipped  as  fast  as  they  put  forth.  He  was  always  just 
and  considerate,  and  perhaps  as  communicative  towards 
myself  as  towards  any  of  the  other  boys  ;  but  this  was 
far  from  being  a  frank,  cordial  companionship.  His  reti- 
cence, however,  occasionally  impressed  me  as  not  being 
entirely  natural  ;  there  was  about  him  an  air  of  some  sad 
premature  experience  of  life. 

Few  of  the  quiet,  studious,  older  pupils  remained  during 
the  summer,  while  there  was  an  accession  of  younger  ones, 
principally  from  Philadelphia.  The  tone  of  our  society 
thus  became  gay  and  lively,  even  romping,  at  times.  I 
was  heartily  fond  of  sport,  and  I  now  gave  myself  up  to  it 
wholly  during  play-hours.  I  was  always  ready  for  a  game 
of  ball  on  the  green  ;  for  a  swim  in  the  shallow  upper  part 
of  Honeybrook  Pond  ;  for  an  excursion  to  the  clearings 
where  wild  strawberries  grew  ;  for  —  not  at  first,  I  honestly 
declare,  and  not  without  cowardly  terrors  and  serious 
twinges  of  conscience  —  for  a  midnight  descent  into  the 
cellar,  a  trembling  groping  in  the  dark  until  the  pies  were 
found,  and  then  a  rapid  transfer  of  a  brace  of  them  to  our 
attic.  The  perils  of  the  latter  exploit  made  it  fearfully  at- 
tractive. Had  the  pies  been  of  the  kind  which  we  abonri- 
lated,  —  dried-apple,  —  we  should  have  stolen  them  all  the 
game.  Nay,  such  is  trie  natural  depravity  of  the  human 
heart,  that  no  pies  were  so  good  (or  ever  have  been  since) 
as  those  which  we  divided  on  the  top  of  a  trunk,  and  ate 
by  moonlight,  sitting  in  our  shirts. 

The  empty  dishes  of  course  told  the  tale,  and  before 
many  days  a  stout  wooden  grating  was  erected  across  tttfl 


48          JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

cellar,  in  front  of  the  pastry  shelves.  This  device  mereh 
stimulated  our  ingenuity.  Various  plans  were  suggested 
and  finally  two  of  the  boldest  boys  volunteered  to  descend 
and  test  a  scheme  of  their  own.  They  were  absent  half 
an  hour,  and  we  were  beginning  to  be  more  amused  thau 
apprehensive  at  their  stay,  when  they  appeared  with  the 
coveted  pies  in  their  arms.  They  had  secreted  matches 
and  a  bit  of  candle,  found  the  oven-shovel,  and  thrust  it 
through  the  grating,  after  which  it  was  an  easy  matter  t< 
reach  the  dish,  withdraw  the  pie  perpendicularly,  and  re- 
place the  dish  on  the  shelf.  I  fancy  Mother  Dymond  must 
have  opened  her  silly  eyes  unusually  wide  the  next  morning. 
The  enemy  now  adopted  a  change  of  tactics  which  came 
near  proving  disastrous.  Thornton  and  myself  were  chosen 
for  the  next  night's  foray.  We  had  safely  descended  the 
stairs  (which  would  creak  tremendously,  however  lightly  you 
stepped),  and  I,  as  the  leader,  commenced  feeling  my  way 
in  the  dark  across  the  dining-room,  when  I  came  unexpect- 
edly upon  a  delicately  piled  pyramid  of  chairs.  I  no  sooner 
touched  the  pile  than  down  it  crashed,  with  the  noise  of  ar- 
tillery. Thornton  whisked  out  of  the  door  and  up-stairs 
like  a  cat,  I  following,  completely  panic-struck.  I  was  none 
too  quick,  for  another  door  suddenly  opened  into  the  pas- 
sage and  the  light  of  a  lamp  struck  vengefully  up  after  us. 
By  this  time  I  had  cleared  the  first  flight,  and  all  that  Dr. 
Dymond  could  have  seen  of  me  was  the  end  of  a  flag  of 
truce  fluttering  across  the  landing-place.  He  gave  chase 
very  nimbly  for  his  years,  but  I  increased  the  advantage 
already  gained,  and  was  over  head  and  ears  in  bed  b3  the 
time  he  had  reached  the  attic-floor.  Thornton  was  already 
snoring.  The  Doctor  presently  made  his  appearance  in 
his  dressing-gown,  evidently  rather  puzzled.  He  looked 
from  bed  to  bed,  and  beheld  only  the  innocent  sleep,  knit- 
ting up  the  ravelled  sleave  of  care.  If  he  had  been  familiar 
with  Boccaccio  (a  thing  not  to  be  fora  moment  suspected), 
he  might  have  tried  the  stratagem  of  King  Agilulf  witb 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  49 

triumphant  success.  Even  the  test  which  Lady  Derby  ap- 
plied to  Fenella  might  have  been  sufficient.  I  fancy,  how- 
ever, that  he  felt  silly  in  being  foiled,  and  thought  only  of 
retreating  with  dignity. 

He  finally  broke  silence  by  exclaiming,  in  a  stern  voice, 
-  Who  was  it?  " 

Bill  Dawson.  who  had  really  been  asleep,  started,  rubbed 
his  eyes,  and  finally  sat  up  in  bed,  looking  red  and  flustered. 
The  Doctor's  face  brightened ;  he  moved  a  step  nearer  to 
Bill,  and  again  asked  :  "  Who  made  the  disturbance  ?  " 

"I  —  I  'in  sure  I  don't  know,"  Bill  stammered :  •'  I  did 
n't  hear  anything." 

"  You  did  not  hear  ?  There  was  a  dreadful  racket,  sir. 
I  thought  the  house  was  coming  down.  It  roused  me  out 
of  my  sleep  "  (as  if  he  had  not  been  watching  in  the  ad- 
joining room  ! )  "  and  then  I  heard  somebody  running  up 
and  down  stairs.  Take  care,  Dawson ;  this  .won't  do." 

Bill  made  a  confused  and  incoherent  protestation  of  in- 
nocence, which  the  Doctor  cut  short  by  exclaiming :  "  Don't 
let  it  happen  again,  sir  !  "  and  vanishing  with  his  lamp. 
Whether  he  was  really  so  little  of  a  detective  as  to  suspect 
the  first  boy  whom  his  voice  brought  to  life,  or  merely  made 
use  of  Dawson  as  a  telegraphic  wire  to  transmit  messages 
to  the  rest  of  us,  I  will  not  decide.  At  dinner  the  follow- 
ing day,  and  for  several  succeeding  days,  Bill  was  furnished, 
in  accordance  with  private  instructions  to  the  waiting-maids, 
with  an  immense  slice  of  pie,  which  he  devoured  in  con- 
vulsive haste.  Dr.  Dymond's  sharp  eye  on  him  all  the  time, 
and  Dr.  Dymond's  thumbs  revolving  around  each  other  at 
double  speed.  It  was  great  fun  for  us,  although  it  put  a 
stop  to  our  midnight  excursions  to  the  cellar. 

A  few  weeks  later,  however,  we  found  a  substitute  which 
was  more  innocent,  although  quite  as  irregular.  The 
weather  had  become  very  hot,  and  our  attic  was  so  insuffer- 
ably close  find  sultry  that  we  not  only  kept  the  window  open 
all  night,  but  kicked  off  the  bedclothes.  Frequently  one 


50  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES, 

or  the  other  of  us,  unable  to  sleep,  would  sit  in  the  window 
and  cool  his  heated  body.  And  so  it  happened  one  night, 
when  we  were  all  tossing  restlessly  and  exchanging  lamen- 
tations, that  Thornton's  voice  called  in  to  us  from  the  outer 
air,  ••  I  say,  boys,  come  out  here  ;  it 's  grand." 

The  roof  of  the  house  was  but  slightly  pitched,  with  a 
broad  gutter  at  the  bottom.  Thornton  had  stepped  into 
this  and  walked  up  to  the  comb,  where  he  sat  in  his  breezy 
drapery,  leaning  against  a  chimney.  The  prospect  was  sf 
tempting  that  all  of  us  who  were  awake  followed  him. 

It  was  a  glorious  summer  night.  The  moon,  steeped  in 
hazy  warmth,  swam  languidly  across  the  deep  violet  sky,  in 
which  only  the  largest  stars  faintly  sparkled.  The  poplar 
leaves  rocked  to  and  fro  on  their  twisted  stems  and  coun- 
terfeited a  pleasant  breeze,  though  but  the  merest  breath 
of  air  was  stirring.  Stretching  away  to  the  south  and 
southwest,  the  whole  basin  of  the  valley  was  visible,  its 
features  massed  and  balanced  with  a  breadth  and  beauty 
which  the  sun  could  never  give.  The  single  spire  of  Ilon- 
eybrook  rose  in  darker  blue  above  the  shimmering  pearly 
gray  of  the  distance,  and  a  streak  of  purest  silver  was 
drawn  across  the  bosom  of  the  pond.  Those  delicate,  vol- 
atile perfumes  of  grass  and  leaves  and  earth  which  are 
only  called  forth  by  night  and  dew,  filled  the  air.  On  such 
a  night,  our  waste  of  beauty  in  the  unconsciousness  of  slum- 
ber seems  little  less  than  sin. 

We  crowded  together,  sitting  on  the  sharp  comb  (which, 
gradually  cutting  into  the  unprotected  flesh,  suggested  the 
advantage  of  being  a  cherub)  or  lying  at  full  length  on  the 
gentle  slope  of  the  roof,  and  unanimously  declared  that  it 
was  better  than  bed.  Our  young  brains  were  warmed  and 
our  fancies  stimulated  by  the  poetic  influences  of  the  night. 
We  wondered  whether  the  moon  was  inhabited,  and  if  so, 
what  sort  of  people  they  were  ;  and  finally,  whether  the 
lunar  school-boys  played  ball,  and  bought  pea-nuts  with 
their  pocket-money,  and  stole  pies. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  51 

"  By  George  ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  composition  -class. 
u  that 's  a  good  idea  !  Next  week,  the  Doctor  says,  we  may 
choose  our  own  subjects  to  write  about.  Now  I  'm  going 
to  write  about  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon,  because,  you 
know,  a  fellow  can  say  just  what  he  pleases,  and  who  's  to 
prove  it  may  n't  be  true  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  '11  write  a  poem,  or  a  tragedy,  or  something 
of  that  sort,"  said  Brotherton,  sticking  up  one  leg  into  the 
air  as  he  lay  upon  his  back. 

"  What  is  a  tragedy  ?  "  asked  Jones. 

"Pshaw!  don't  you  know  that?"  broke  in  Thornton, 
with  an  air  of  contempt.  "  They  're  played  in  the  theatres. 
I  've  seen  'em.  Where  the  people  get  stabbed,  or  poisoned, 
and  everything  comes  out  dreadful  at  the  end,  it 's  tragedy  ; 
and  where  they  laugh  all  the  time,  and  play  tricks,  and  get 
married,  and  wind  up  comfortable,  it 's  comedy." 

"  But  I  was  at  the  theatre  once,"  said  Brotherton,  "  and 
two  of  them  were  killed,  and  he  and  she  got  married  for 
all  that.  I  tell  you,  she  was  a  beauty !  Now,  what  would 
you  call  that  sort  of  a  play  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  comic  tragedy,  to  be  sure,"  answered  Thornton. 

"  Where  do  the  theatres  get  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  have  men  hired  to  write  them,"  Thornton 
continued,  proud  of  a  chance  to  show  his  superior  knowl- 
edge. "  My  brother  Eustace  told  me  all  about  it.  He  's  a 
lawyer,  and  has  an  office  of  his  own  in  Seventh  Street.  He 
knows  one  of  the  men,  and  I  know  him  too,  but  I  forget 
his  name.  I  was  in  Eustace's  office  one  afternoon  when  he 
came ;  he  had  a  cigar  in  his  mouth  ;  he  was  a  tragedician. 
A  tragedician  's  a  man  that  writes  only  tragedies.  Comedi- 
ci.uis  write  comedies  ;  it 's  great  fun  to  know  them.  The) 
can  mimic  anybody  they  choose,  and  change  their  faces  intc 
a  hundred  different  shapes." 

"  How  much  do  they  get  paid  for  their  tragedies  ?  "  asked 
the  inquisitive  Jones. 

"  Very  likely  a  hundred  dollars  a  piece,"  I  suggested. 


52  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

a  A  hundred  dollars ! "  sneered  Thornton  ;  u  tell  that  U 
the  marines !  Why,  I  suppose  my  brother  Eustace  could 
write  one  a  day,- —  he  writes  like  a  book,  I  tell  you,  —  and 
he  'd  make  tragedies  quick  enough,  at  that  price.  We  had 
a  boy,  once,  in  father's  store,  that  swept  and  made  fires, 
and  he  went  into  the  theatre  for  a  soldier  in  the  fighting- 
plays,  for  two  dollars  a  week,  —  uniforms  found.  I  should 
think  if  a  regular  tragedician  got  twenty  dollars  a  week, 
he  'd  be  lucky." 

"  Why  don't  your  brother  write  them  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  He  ?  Oh,  he  could  do  it  easy,  but  I  guess  it  is  n't 
exactly  respectable.  A  lawyer,  you  know,  is  as  good  as  any 
man." 

"  Shut  up,  you  little  fool ! "  exclaimed  a  clear,  deep  voice, 
so  good-humored  in  tone  that  we  were  slightly  startled,  not 
immediately  recognizing  Penrose,  who  had  come  up  on  the 
other  side  of  the  dormer-window,  and  was  seated  in  the 
hip  of  the  roof.  His  shirt  was  unbuttoned  and  the  collar 
thrown  back,  revealing  a  noble  neck  and  breast,  and  his 
slender,  symmetrical  legs  shone  in  the  moonlight  like 
golden-tinted  marble.  His  lips  were  parted  in  the  sensu- 
ous delight  of  the  balmy  air-bath,  and  his  eyes  shone  like 
dark  fire  in  the  shadow  of  his  brows.  I  thought  I  had 
never  seen  any  human  being  so  beautiful. 

"  You  forget,  Oliver,"  he  continued,  in  a  kindly  though 
patronizing  tone,  *'  that  Shakspeare  was  a  writer  of  trage- 
dies." 

"  I  know,  Penrose,"  Thornton  meekly  answered,  "  tluil 
Shakspeare    was   a  great    man.     His    books   are   in    im 
brother's  library  at  the  office  in  Seventh  Street,  but  1  'v 
never  read  any  of  'em.     Eustace  says  I  could  n't  under 
stand  'em  yet" 

"  Nor  he,  either,  I  dare  say,"  Penrose  remarked. 

"  Boys,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "  Brotherton  has  had 
an  idea,  and  now  I  've  got  one.  This  is  a  good  time  and 
place  for  selecting  our  themes  ibr  composition.  We  are  in 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  53 

the  higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere,  and  where  the  air 
expands  1  should  n't  wonder  if  the  brain  expanded  too 
Moonlight  brings  out  our  thoughts.  Who  'd  have  supposed 
that  Thornton  knew  so  much  about  '  tragedicians '  and 
•  comedicians '  ?" 

We  all  laughed,  even  Thornton  himself,  although  he 
was  n't  sure  but  that  Penrose  might  be  "  chaffing "  him 
The  latter's  suggestion  was  at  once  taken  up,  and  the 
themes  discussed  and  adopted.  I  believe  mine  was  '"  The 
Influence  of  Nature,"  or  something  of  the  kind. 

"  Why  could  n't  we  get  up  a  Fourth-of-July  Celebration 
among  ourselves  ?  We  have  lots  of  talent,"  Penrose 
further  suggested,  in  a  mocking  tone ;  but  we  took  it  seri- 

O~  O 

ously  and  responded  with  great  enthusiasm.  We  appealed 
to  him  as  an  authority  for  the  order  of  exercises,  each  out 
anxious  for  a  prominent  part 

"It  might  do,  after  all,"  he  said,  reflectively ;  "  they 
usually  arrange  it  so  :  —  First,  prayer  ;  that 's  Dr.  Dymond, 
of  course,  always  provided  he  's  willing.  Then,  reading  the 
Declaration  ;  we  want  a  clear,  straightforward  reader  for 
that" 

-  You  're  the  very  fellow ! "  exclaimed  Thornton.  We 
all  thought  and  said  the  same  thing. 

"  Well  —  I  should  n't  mind  it  for  once,  —  so  you  don't  ask 
me  to  spout  and  make  pump-handles  of  my  arms.  That 's 
fixed,  we  '11  say.  What 's  next  ?  Song  —  '  The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner,'  of  course  ;  hard  to  sing,  but  four  voices 
will  do,  if  we  can  get  no  more.  Then  the  Oration ;  don't 
all  speak  at  once  !  I  think,  on  the  whole,  Marsh  would  do 
tolerably." 

••  Marsh  is  n't  here,"  Jones  interrupted. 

"  What  if  he  is  n't !  Are  we  to  have  a  school  celebra- 
tion, or  only  a  fi'penny-bit  concern,  got  up  by  this  bare- 
legged committee,  holding  a  secret  session  on  the  Academy 
roof?  Let  me  alone  till  I  've  finished,  and  then  say  and 
do  what  you  please.  Oration  —  after  that,  recitation  erf 


54  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

What-d'-you-call-him's  '  Ode  to  the  American  Eagle ' ;  one 
or  two  more  addresses  —  short  —  to  give  the  other  Daniel 
Websters  a  chance;  then,  we  ought  to  have  an  original 
poem,  but  who  'd  write  it  ?  " 

This  seemed  to  us  beyond  the  combined  powers  of  the 
school.  We  were  silent,  and  Penrose  continued.  — 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  I  'in  sure.  But  it 's  part  of 
the  regular  programme,  —  no  gentleman's  Fourth  of  July 
complete  without  it  If  Godfrey  would  try,  perhaps  he 
might  grind  out  something." 

"  Godfrey  ?  "  and  "  Me  ? "  were  simultaneous  exclama- 
tions, uttered  by  Jones,  Brotherton,  and  myself. 

"Yes,  I  can't  think  of  anybody  else.  You  could  try 
your  hand  at  the  thing,  Godfrey,  and  show  it  to  Dr.  Dy- 
mond.  He  '11  put  a  stopper  on  you  if  you  don't  do  credit 
to  the  school.  There  's  nothing  else  that  I  know  of,  ex- 
cept a  song  to  wind  up  with  ;  '  Old  Hundred '  would  do. 
But  before  anything  more  is  done,  we  must  let  the  rest  of 
the  boys  know  ;  that 's  all  I  've  got  to  say." 

While  the  others  eagerly  entered  into  a  further  discus- 
sion of  the  matter,  I  rolled  over  on  the  roof  and  gave  my- 
self up  to  a  fascinating  reverie  about  the  proposed  poem. 
How  grand,  how  glorious,  I  thought,  if  I  could  really  do 
such  a  thing !  —  if  I  could  imitate,  though  at  a  vast  dis- 
tance, the  majestic  march  of  Barlow's  "  Vision  of  Colum- 
bus " !  "  Marco  Bozzaris  "  I  considered  hopelessly  beyond 
my  powers.  The  temptation  and  the  dread  were  about 
equally  balanced ;  but  the  idea  was  like  a  tropical  sand- 
flea.  It  had  got  under  my  skin,  and  the  attempt  to  dis- 
lodge it  opened  the  germs  of  a  hundred  others.  I  had 
never  seriously  tried  my  hand  at  rhyme,  for  the  school-boy 
doggerel  in  which  -  Honeybrook  "  was  coupled  with  "  funny 
brook  "  and  "  Dy  niond  "  with  "  priming,"  was  contemptible 
stuff.  I  am  glad  that  the  foregoing  terminations  are  all 
that  I  remember  of  it 

It  was  long  past   midnight  before  the  excitement  sub 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  55 

aided.  Two  boys,  who  had  meanwhile  gone  to  sleep  on 
their  backs,  with  their  faces  to  the  moon,  were  aroused 
and  we  returned  through  the  window.  I  got  into  bed, 
already  linking  "  glory "  with  "  story,"  though  still  trem- 
bliugly  uncertain  of  my  ability. 

"  Oh,  Penrose,"  I  whispered,  as  I  lay  down  beside  my 
bedfellow,  "  do  you  really  think  I  can  do  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  bother  me  ! "  was  all  the  encouragement  he  gave 
tli en  or  afterwards. 

Our  airy  conclaves  were  repeated  nightly,  as  long  as  the 
warm  weather  lasted.  The  boys  in  the  other  rooms  were 
let  into  the  secret,  and  issued  from  their  respective  win- 
dows to  join  us.  I  remember  as  many  as  twenty-five, 
scattered  about  in  various  picturesque  and  sculpturesque 
attitudes.  Dr.  Dymond,  apparently,  did  not  suspect  this 
new  device  :  if  we  sometimes  fell  asleep  over  our  books  in 
the  afternoon,  the  sultry  weather,  of  course,  was  to  blame. 
We  afterwards  learned,  however,  that  we  had  been  once 
or  twice  espied  by  late  travellers  on  the  neighboring  high- 
way. 

The  plan  of  our  patriotic  celebration  matured  and  was 
finally  carried  out  in  a  modified  form.  Our  principal  made 
no  objection,  and  accepted  our  programme,  with  a  few 
slight  changes,  such  as  the  substitution  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Langworthy,  of  Honeybrook,  for  himself,  in  the  matter  of 
the  prayer.  There  was  some  competition  in  regard  to  the 
orations,  but  Marsh  justified  Penrose's  judgment  by  pro- 
ducing the  best.  No  one  competed  with  me,  nor  do  I 
believe  that  any  one  supposed  I  would  be  successful.  It 
was  a  terrible  task.  I  had  both  ardor  and  ambition,  but 
a  very  limited  vocabulary,  and,  unfortunately,  an  ear  for  the 
cadences  of  poetry  far  in  advance  of  my  power  to  create 
them.  After  trying  the  heroic  and  failing  utterly,  I  at 
last  hit  upon  an  easy  Hemans-y  form  of  verse,  which  I 
soon  learned  to  manage.  I  was  very  well  satisfied  witfc 
the  result.  It  was  a  glorification  of  the  Revolutionaij 


56  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

heroes,  in  eight-line  stanzas,  with  a  refrain,  which  is  th« 
only  portion  of  it  I  can  remember, — 

"  Give  honor  to  our  fathers'  name, 

Strike  up  the  glorious  lay: 
Sound  high  for  them  the  trump  of  fame,  — 
'Tis  Freedom's  natal  day!  " 

"  Not  bad,  not  bad,"  said  Dr.  Dymond,  when  he  had  fin 
ished  reading  this  effusion,  and  I  stood  waiting^  with  fast- 
beating  heart,  to  hear  his  decision.  " '  Great  oaks  fron? 
little  acorns  grow,'  even  if  the  acorn  is  not  perfectly  round. 
Ha ! "  he  continued,  smiling  at  the  smartness  of  his  own 
remark,  "  the  Academy  has  never  yet  turned  out  a  poet. 
We  have  two  Members  of  Congress  and  several  clergy- 
men, but  we  are  not  yet  represented  in  the  world  of  let- 
ters. It  is  my  rule  to  encourage  native  genius,  not  to 
suppress  it ;  so  I  '11  give  you  a  chance  this  time,  Godfrey. 
Mind,  I  don't  say  that  you  are,  or  can  be,  a  genuine  poet ; 
if  it 's  in  you,  it  will  come  out  some  day,  and  when  that  day 
comes,  remember  that  I  did  n't  crush  it  in  the  bud.  These 
verses  are  fair,  —  very  fair,  indeed.  They  might  be  pruned 
to  advantage,  here  and  there,  but  you  can  very  well  repeat 
them  as  they  are,  only  changing  '  was '  into  '  were,'  —  sub- 
junctive mood,  you  know,  —  and  '  them '  into  '  they '  — 
'  did '  understood.  The  line  will  read  so  :  — 
"  '  If  't  were  given  to  us  to  fight  as  they.' 

And,  of  course,  you  must  change  the  rhyme.      '  Diadem 
must   come   out :   put  '  ray '    ('  of  glory,'   understood),   or 
America  —  poetic  license  of  pronunciation.     I  could  teach 
you  the  laws  which  govern  literary  performances,  but  it  is 
not  included  in  the  design  of  my  school." 

Miss  Hitchcock  would  have  preferred  one  of  the  classic 
metres,  only  I  was  not  far  enough  advanced  to  compre- 
hend them.  She  repeated  to  me  Coleridge's  translation 
of  Schiller's  illustrations  of  hexameter  and  pentameter. 
I  thought  they  must  be  very  fine,  because  T  had  not  the 
'east  idea  of  the  meaning. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  57 

When  1  took  the  verses  home  to  mother,  she  thonghl 
them  almost  as  good  as  "Alcanzor  and  Zayda."  the  only 
poem  she  knew.  I  was  obliged  to  make  her  an  elegant 
copy,  in  my  best  hand,  which  she  kept  between  the  leaves 
of  the  family  Bible,  and  read  aloud  in  an  old-fashioned 
chant  to  Neighbor  Niles  or  any  other  female  gossip. 

When  the  celebration  came  off,  the  effect  I  produced 
was  flattering.  The  excitement  of  the  occasion  made  my 
declamation  earnest  and  impassioned,  and  the  verdict  of 
the  boys  was  that  it  was  "  prime."  Penrose  merely  nodded 
to  me  when  I  sat  down,  as  if  confirming  the  wisdom  of  his 
own  suggestion.  I  was  obliged  to  be  satisfied  with  what- 
ever praise  the  gesture  implied,  for  I  got  nothing  else 


58  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES, 


CHAPTER  V. 

WHICH  BRINGS  A  STERNER  CHANGE  IN  MY  FORTUNES. 

IT  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  I  was  both  proud  and 
vain  of  the  little  distinction  I  had  achieved.  My  pulse 
began  Lo  flutter  with  COY  expectation  whenever  any  of  the 
boys  mentioned  the  poem,  —  which  happened  several  times 
during  the  two  succeeding  days.  I  was  backward  to  say 
much  about  it  myself,  but  I  dearly  liked  to  hear  others 
talk,  except  when  they  declared,  as  Bill  Dawson  did,  "  Oh, 
he  got  it  out  of  some  book  or  other."  It  was  the  author's 
experience  in  miniature,  —  extravagant  praise,  conceit,  cen- 
sure, exasperation,  indifference. 

Of  course,  I  made  other  and  more  ambitious  essays. 
Several  of  the  boys  caught  the  infection,  and  for  a  fort- 
night the  quantity  of  dislocated  metre,  imperfect  rhyme,  and 
perfect  trash  produced  in  the  Honeybrook  Academy  was 
something  fearful.  Brotherton  attempted  an  epic  on  the 
discovery  of  America,  which  he  called  "  The  Columbine  " ; 
Marsh  wrote  a  long  didactic  and  statistical  poem  on  "  The 
Wonders  of  Astronomy  " ;  while  Jones,  in  whom  none  of 
us  had  previously  detected  the  least  trace  of  sentiment, 
brought  forth,  with  much  labor,  a  lamentable  effusion, 
entitled,  "  The  Deserted  Maiden,"  commencing,  — 

44  He  has  left  me :  oh,  what  sadness, 
What  reflections  fill  my  breast !  " 

Gradually,  however,  the  malady,  like  measles  or  small- 
pox, ran  its  course  and  died  out,  except  in  my  own  case, 
which  threatened  to  become  chronic.  My  progress  in  the 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  59 

graver  studies  was  somewhat  interrupted  thereby,  but  I 
prosecuted  Latin  with  ardor,  tempted  by  the  promise  of 
Virgil,  and  began  to  crave  a  higher  literary  culture.  I  am 
aot  sure  but  that  it  was  a  fortunate  accident  which  turned 
my  mind  in  this  direction.  The  course  of  study  at  Honey- 
brook  was  neither  thorough  nor  methodical.  A  piece  of 
knowledge  was  hacked  off  this  or  that  branch,  and  thrown 
to  us  in  lumps.  There  was  a  lack  of  some  solvent  or  as- 
similating element,  to  equalize  our  mental  growth,  and  my 
new  ambition,  to  a  certain  extent,  supplied  the  need. 

A  week  or  so  after  the  Fourth,  three  of  us  had  permis- 
sion to  go  to  Honeybrook  during  the  noon  recess.  My 
errand  was  to  buy  a  lead-pencil  for  three  cents,  and  Thorn- 
ton's to  spend  his  liberal  supply  of  pocket-money  in  pea- 
nuts and  candy,  which  he  generously  shared  with  us.  As 
we  were  returning  up  the  main  street,  we  paused  to  look 
at  a  new  brick  house,  —  an  unusual  sight  in  the  quiet 
village,  —  the  walls  of  which  had  just  reached  the  second 
story.  A  ringing  cry  of  "  Mort !  "  at  the  same  moment 
came  from  an  active  workman,  who  was  running  up  one  of 
the  corners.  I  recognized  the  voice,  and  cried  out  in  great 
joy,  "  Bob !  oh,  Bob,  is  that  you  ?  " 

He  dropped  his  trowel,  drew  his  dusty  sleeve  across  his 
brow  to  clear  his  eyes  from  the  streaming  sweat,  and  looked 
down.  The  dear  old  fellow,  —  what  a  grin  of  genuine  de- 
light spread  over  his  face  !  "  Blast  me  if 't  is  n't  John !  " 
he  cried.  ''  Why,  John,  how  're  you  gettin'  on  ?  " 

"  Oh,  finely,  Bob,"  I  answered ;  "  may  I  come  up  there 
and  shake  hands  with  you  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  '11  come  down." 

He  was  down  the  gangway  in  three  leaps,  and  gave  me  a 
crushing  grip  of  his  hard,  brick-dusted  hand.  "  I  've  only 
got  a  minute."  he  said  ;  "  the  boss  is  comin'  up  the  street. 
How  you  've  growed  !  and  I  hear  you  're  a  famous  scholar 
already.  Well  —  you  're  at  your  trade,  and  I  'm  at  mine. 
I  like  it  better  'n  I  thought  I  would.  I  can  lay,  and  p'int 


fiO  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

and  run  up  corners,  right  smart.  "That  's  my  corner  :  is  n't 
it  pretty  tolerable  straight  ?  " 

I  looked  at  it  with  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur,  and  re- 
marked. "  It's  very  well  done,  indeed.  Bob." 

"  Well,  good-bye.  I  've  got  another  thousand  to  lay  be- 
fore I  knock  off.  Take  care  of  yourself !  " 

He  was  back  on  the  scaffold  in  no  time.  My  two  com 
panions,  standing  beside  me,  had  witnessed  our  interview 
with  curiosity  ;  so  I  said,  by  way  of  explanation,  as  we 
moved  on,  "  It 's  Bob  Simmons  ;  he  's  a  first-rate  fellow." 

"  A  relation  of  yours,  Godfrey  ?  "  asked  Thornton,  rather 
impertinently. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  wish  he  was.  I  have  no  relations  except 
mother,  and  my  uncle  and  aunt  in  Reading." 

"  I  've  got  lots,"  Thornton  asserted.  "  Six  —  no,  five 
uncles  and  six  aunts,  and  no  end  of  cousins.  I  don't  think 
a  fellow  's  worth  much  that  has  n't  got  relations.  Where 
are  you  going  to  get  your  money  if  they  don't  leave  it  to 
you?" 

"  I  must  earn  mine,"  I  said,  though,  I  am  ashamed  to 
say,  with  a  secret  feeling  of  humiliation,  as  I  contrasted  n\y 
dependence  with  Thornton's  assured  position. 

u  Earn  ?  "  sneered  Thornton.  "  You  '11  be  no  better  than 
that  bricklayer.  Catch  me  earning  the  money  I  spend  ; 
I  "m  going  to  be  a  gentleman  !  " 

I  might  here  pause  in  the  reminiscences  of  my  school- 
days, and  point  a  moral  from  poor  Thornton's  after-fate,  — 
but  to  what  end  ?  Some  destinies  are  congenital,  and  cut 
their  way  straight  through  all  the  circumstances  of  life  : 
their  end  is  involved  in  their  beginning.  Let  me  remem- 
ber only  the  blooming  face,  the  laughing  eyes,  and  the 
unny  locks,  nor  imagine  that  later  picture,  which,  thank 
God  !  /did  not  see. 

Thornton  did  not  fail  to  describe  my  interview  with  Bob. 
with  his  own  embellishments,  after  our  return  ;  and  some 
of  the  boys,  seeing  that  I  was  annoyed,  tormented  me  with 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  «I 

ironical  references  to  my  friend.  The  annoyance  was  less 
however,  than  it  would  have  been  in  a  more  aristocratic 
school,  for  we  had  not  only  the  sons  of  farmers,  but  some- 
times actual  mechanics,  among  us.  It  was  rumored,  in- 
deed, that  Dr.  Dymond,  now  an  LL.  D.  of  the  Lackawanna 
University,  had  commenced  life  as  a  chair-maker  in  Cor. 
necticut. 

So  my  school-life  went  on.  The  summer  passed  away, 
and  the  autumn,  and  the  second  winter.  My  mental 
growth  was  so  evident,  that,  although  the  expenses  of  the 
ychool  proved  to  be  considerably  more  than  had  been 
estimated,  my  mother  could  not  think  of  abridging  the  full 
time  she  had  assigned  to  my  studies.  The  money  was 
forthcoming,  and  she  refused  to  tell  me  whence  it  came. 
"  You  shall  help  me  to  pay  it  back,  Johnny,"  was  all  she 
would  say. 

1  believed,  at  least,  that  she  was  not  overtasking  her  own 
strength  in  the  effort  to  earn  it.  There  was  but  limited 
employment  for  her  needle  in  so  insignificant  a  place  as 
the  Cross-Keys,  and  she  was,  moreover,  unable  at  this  tim*> 
to  do  as  much  as  formerly.  The  bright  color,  I  could  i.^t 
help  noticing,  had  faded  from  her  face,  and  was  replaced 
by  a  livid,  waxen  hue ;  thick  streaks  of  gray  appeared  in 
her  dark  puffs,  and  her  round  forehead,  once  so  smooth, 
began  to  show  lines  which  hinted  at  concealed  suffering. 
She  confessed,  indeed,  that  she  had  "  spells  of  weakness  " 
now  and  then  ;  "  but,"  she  added,  with  a  smile  which  reas- 
sured me,  •'  it 's  nothing  more  than  I  've  been  expecting. 
We  old  people  are  subject  to  such  things.  There  's  Neigh- 
bor Niles,  now,  —  to  hear  her  talk,  you  would  think  she 
never  had  a  well  day  in  her  life,  yet  what  a  deal  of  work 
she  does  ! '' 

This  was  true.  Our  good  neighbor  was  never  free  from 
some  kind  of  '•  misery,"  as  she  expressively  termed  it  One 
day  she  would  have  it  in  the  small  of  the  back  ;  then  it 
would  mount  to  a  spot  between  the  shoulder-blades  ;  next, 


62  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

perhaps,  she  would  find  it  in  her  legs,  or  elbows,  or  ever, 
on  the  top  of  her  head.  After  a  day  of  hard  scrubbing 
she  would  run  over  to, our  cottage,  drop  into  mother's  rock- 
ing-chair, and  exclaim,  "  I  feel  powerful  weak ;  the  mis- 
ery 's  just  got  into  every  bone  o'  my  body." 

Thus,  though  at  times  I  noticed  with  apprehension  the 
change  in  my  mother's  appearance,  the  feeling  was  speedily 
dismissed.  My  own  prospects  were  so  secure,  so  glowing, 
that  any  shadow  of  unwelcome  change  took  from  them  an 
illuminated  edge  as  it  approached.  But  there  came,  in  the 
beginning  of  summer,  one  Sunday,  when  a  strange,  restless 
spirit  seemed  to  have  entered  the  cottage.  Every  incident 
of  that  day  is  burned  upon  my  memory  in  characters  so 
legible  that  to  recall  them  brings  back  my  own  uncompre- 
hended  pain.  The  day  was  hot  and  cloudless  :  every  plant, 
bush,  and  tree  rejoiced  in  the  perfect  beauty  of  its  new 
foliage.  The  air  was  filled,  not  with  any  distinct  fragrance, 
but  with  a  soft,  all-pervading  smell  of  life.  Bees  were 
everywhere,  —  in  the  locust-blossoms,  in  the  starry  tulip- 
trees,  on  the  opening  pinks  and  sweet-williams  of  the  gar- 
den ;  and  the  cat-bird  sang  from  a  bursting  throat,  on  his 
perch  among  the  reddening  mayduke  cherries.  The  har- 
mony of  such  a  day  is  so  exquisite  that  the  discord  of  a 
mood  which  cannot  receive  and  become  a  portion  of  it  is  a 
torture  scarcely  to  be  borne. 

This  torture  I  first  endured  on  that  day.  What  I  feared 
—  whether,  in  fact,  I  did  fear  —  I  could  not  tell.  A  vague, 
smothering  weight  lay  upon  my  heart,  and,  though  I  could 
not  doubt  that  mother  shared  the  same  intolerable  anxiety, 
it  offered  no  form  sufficiently  tangible  for  expression.  She 
insisted  on  my  reading  from  ths  Psalms,  as  usual  when  we 
did  not  go  to  church,  but  internij  ted  me  every  few  min- 
utes by  rising  from  her  seat  and  going  into  her  own  room, 
or  the  kitchen,  or  the  garden,  without  any  clear  reason 
Sometimes  I  caught  her  looking  at  me  with  eyes  that  so 
positively  spoke  that  I  asked,  involuntarily,  "Mother,  did 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  63 

yon  say  anything  ?  "  Then  a  faint  color  would  come  into 
her  face,  which  had  lost  none  of  its  roundness,  so  that  she 
suddenly  seemed  to  be  her  old,  bright,  cheerful  self. 

••  I  believe  I  was  going  to  say  something,  Johnny,"  she 
would  answer,  "  but  it  can't  make  much  odds  what  it  was, 
for  I  've  forgotten  it  already." 

As  the  day  wore  on.  her  restlessness  increased.  When 
it  was  necessary  for  her  to  leave  the  room,  on  some  house 
hold  errand,  she  would  call  to  me,  soon  afterwards,  "  John- 
ny, are  you  there  ?  "  or  come  back  to  the  room  in  flushed 
haste,  as  if  fearful  of  some  impending  catastrophe.  She 
prepared  our  tea  with  a  feverish  hurry,  talking  all  the  time 
of  my  hunger  (though  I  had  not  the  least)  and  my  appe- 
tite, and  how  pleasant  it  was  to  have  me  there,  and  how 
she  always  looked  forward  to  Sunday  evening,  and  how 
fast  the  time  had  gone  by,  to  be  sure,  since  I  first  went  to 
Dr.  Dymond's  school,  and  what  progress  I  had  made,  and 
she  wished  she  could  send  me  to  college,  but  it  could  n't 
be.  no.  there  was  no  use  in  thinking  of  it  —  with  such 
earnestness  and  so  many  repetitions  that  I  became  at  last 
quite  confused.  Yet,  when  we  sat  down  to  the  table  she 
became  silent,  and  her  face  resumed  its  waxen  pallor. 

During  the  evening  she  still  talked  about  the  school, 
and  what  I  should  do  the  following  winter,  after  leaving  it. 
"  Perhaps  Dr.  Dymond  might  want  an  assistant,"  she  said  ; 
"  you  're  young,  John,  it 's  true,  but  I  should  think  you 
«ould  do  as  well  as  Walton,  and  then  you  could  still  study 
bi-uveen  whiles.  I  wouldn't  have  you  mention  it  —  the 
idea  just  came  into  my  head,  that 's  all.  If  you  were  only 
two  years  older !  I  'in  sure  I  'd  keep  you  there  longer  if  I 
could,  but " 

•'Don't  think  of  that,  mother!"  I  interrupted;  "we 
really  can't  afford  it." 

"  No,  we  can't."  she  sighed,  "  not  even  if  I  was  to  give 
up  the  cottage  and  go  somewhere  as  housekeeper.  I  did 
think  of  that,  once,  but  it's  too  late.  Well,  you  '11  have  the 
two  years  I  promised  you,  Johnny." 


64  70HN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

Much  more  she  said  to  the  same  purport,  interrupting 
herself  every  now  and  then  with,  "  Stop,  there  was  some- 
thing else  I  had  to  say!"  —  which,  when  recalled,  generally 
proved  to  be  something  already  mentioned. 

When  I  went  to  bed,  I  lay  awake  for  a  long  time,  trying 
to  explain  the  singular  unrest  which  had  come  upon  the 
house.  It  finally  occurred  to  me  that  mother  had  probably 
gotten  into  some  trouble  on  account  of  the  expense  of  my 
schooling.  I  could  hear  her,  in  the  room  below  me.  walk- 
ing about  uneasily,  opening  and  shutting  drawers,  talking 
to  herself,  it  seemed.  Once  or  twice  something  like  a 
smothered  groan  reached  my  ear.  I  resolved  that  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday  should  not  go  by  without  my  knowing  to 
what  extent  she  had  drawn  upon  her  resources  for  my 
sake,  and  that  the  drain  should  be  stopped,  even  if  I  had 
to  give  up  the  remainder  of  my  summer  term.  After  con- 
g^tulating  myself  on  this  heroic  resolution,  I  fell  asleep. 

When  I  came  down  stairs  in  the  morning,  I  found  that 
breakfast  was  already  prepared.  Mother  seemed  to  have 
recovered  from  her  restless,  excited  condition,  but  her  eye- 
lids were  heavy  and  red.  She  confessed  that  she  had 
passed  a  sleepless  night  When  I  heard  Charley  Rand's 
hail  from  the  road,  I  kissed  her  and  said  good-bye.  She 
returned  my  kiss  silently,  and  went  quietly  into  her  bed- 
room as  I  passed  out  the  door. 

The  vague  weight  at  my  heart  left  me  that  morning,  to 
return  and  torment  me  during  the  next  two  days.  It  was 
but  a  formless  shadow,  —  the  very  ghost  of  a  phantom,  — 
but  it  clung  to  and  dulled  every  operation  of  my  minC 
muffled  every  beat  of  my  heart. 

Wednesday  evening,  I  recollect,  was  heavy  and  overcast, 
with  a  dead,  stifling  hush  in  the  atmosphere.  The  tension 
of  my  unnatural  mood  was  scarcely  to  be  endured  any 
longer.  Oh,  if  this  be  life,  I  thought,  let  me  finish  it  now ! 
There  was  not  much  talk  in  our  attic  that  night :  the  o  her 
boys  tumbled  lazily  into  bed  and  soon  slept  I  closed  mj 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  65 

s.  3ut  no  sleep  came.  The  constriction  about  my  heart 
crept  up  towards  my  throat  and  choked  nie.  I  clenched 
my  hands  and  ground  my  teeth  ;  the  muscles  of  my  face 
twitched,  and  with  a  spasm  which  shook  me  from  head  to 
foot  and  took  away  my  breath,  I  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 
I  hid  my  head  under  the  bedclothes,  and  strove  to  stifle  the 
gasps  that  threatened  to  become  cries  —  to  subdue  the 
violence  of  the  crisis  which  had  seized  me.  Penrose  was 
such  a  quiet  bedfellow  that  I  forgot  his  presence  until  ] 
felt  that  he  was  turning  over  towards  me.  Then,  thor- 
oughly alarmed.  I  endeavored  to  lie  still  and  counterfeit 
sleep  :  but  it  was  impossible.  I  could  no  longer  control 
the  sobs  that  shook  my  body. 

Presently  Penrose  stirred  again,  thrust  himself  down  in 
the  bed,  and  I  heard  his  voice  under  the  clothes,  almost  at 
my  ear. 

"  Godfrey,"  he  whispered,  with  a  tender  earnestness, 
'•  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  My  mother  !  "  was  all  the  answer  I  could  make. 

"  Is  she  sick  —  dangerous  ?  "  he  whispered  again,  laying 
one  arm  gently  over  my  shoulder.  Its  very  touch  was 
soothing  and  comforting. 

"  I  don't  know,  Penrose,"  I  said  at  last.  "  Something  is 
the  matter,  and  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  Mother  has  a  hard 
time  to  raise  money  for  my  schooling :  I  am  afraid  it  's  too 
hard  for  her.  I  did  n't  mean  to  cry,  but  it  came  all  at  once. 
I  think  I  should  have  died  if  it  had  n't." 

He  drew  me  towards  him  as  if  I  had  been  a  little  child, 
and  laid  my  head  against  his  shoulder.  "  Don't  be  afraid," 
he  then  whispered,  '•  no  one  has  heard  you  but  myself.  We 
are  all  so,  at  times.  I  recollect  your  mother  ;  she  is  a  good 
woman  ;  she  reminds  me.  somehow,  of  mine." 

My  right  hand  sought  for  Penrose's,  which  it  held  firmlj 
clasped,  and  I  lay  thus  until  my  agitation  had  subsided.  A 
grateful  sense  of  sympathy  stole  into  my  heart ;  the  strange 
mist  which  seemed  to  have  gathered,  blotting  out  my  fiv 

6 


86  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

ture,  began  to  lift  before  a  breeze  which  blew  from  the 
stronger  nature  beside  me.  At  last,  with  a  final  pressure, 
which  was  answered,  I  released  his  hand  and  turned  to  mj 
own  pillow.  Next  morning  he  was  silent  as  ever,  but  his 
silence  no  longer  repelled  or  annoyed  me.  I  was  beginning 
to  learn  that  the  heart  lies  much  deeper  than  the  lips. 

In  the  afternoon  Dr.  Dymond  was  called  into  the  recep- 
tion-room. I  paid  no  attention  to  this  circumstance,  for  it 
was  of  frequent  occurrence,  but  when  he  opened  the  door 
directly  afterwards  and  called  "  Godfrey  !  "  I  started  as  if 
struck.  Penrose  darted  a  glance  of  keen,  questioning  in- 
terest across  the  intervening  desk,  and  I  felt  that  his  eye 
was  following  me  as  I  walked  out  of  the  school-room. 

I  was  quite  surprised  to  find  "  Old  Dave,"  as  we  gener- 
ally called  him,  —  Neighbor  Niles's  husband.  —  waiting  for 
me.  He  was  standing  awkwardly  by  the  table,  his  battered 
beaver  still  upon  his  head. 

"  Well,  Johnny,"  said  he,  giving  me  his  hand,  which  felt 
like  a  piece  of  bark  dried  for  tanning,  "  are  you  pretty  well  ? 
I  've  come  for  to  fetch  you  home,  because,  you  see  —  well. 
your  mother —  she  's  ailin'some,  that  is,  and  so  we  thought 
the  Doctor  here  'd  let  you  off  for  a  day  or  two." 

"  Of  course,  sir,"  Dr.  Dymond  bowed.  "  Godfrey,  this 
gentleman  has  explained  to  me  the  necessity  of  allowing 
you  to  be  absent  for  a  short  time  during  the  term.  I  sin- 
cerely regret  the  occasion  which  calls  for  it.  You  need  not 
return  to  the  school-room.  Good-bye,  for  the  present ! " 

I  took  his  hand  mechanically,  ran  tip-stairs  and  brought 
my  little  carpet-bag,  and  was  very  soon  seated  at  Niles's 
side,  bouncing  down  the  lane  in  a  light,  open  wagon. 

"  I  took  the  brown  mare,  you  see,"  he  said,  as  we  turned 
into  the  highway.  "  She  's  too  free  for  the  old  woman  tc 
drive,  but  she  knows  my  hand.  This  is  Reanor's  machine : 
he  lent  it  to  me  at  once't.  Rolls  easy,  don't  it  ?  " 

"  But,  Dave  !  "  I  cried,  in  an  agony  of  anxiety,  "you  have 
not  told  me  what  !ia<;  h  innonod  to  mother  !  " 


JOIIX   GODFREY'S    FORTUNES.  BV 

He  fidgeted  uneasily  on  his  seat,  addressed  various  re- 
marks to  the  brown  nmre,  and  finally,  when  my  patience 
was  almost  exhausted,  said,  in  a  confused  way,  "  Well,  you 
see.  it  has  n't  jist  happened  altogether  now.  Tears  it  'a 
been  conn'n'  on  a  good  while,  —  a  year  or  two,  maybe 
more.  The  Doctor  sa^'s  it  ought  to  ha'  been  done  sooner, 
but  I  don't  wonder  much  if  she  could  n't  make  up  her  mind 
to  it" 

My  distress  increased  with  every  one  of  these  slowly 
drawled,  incoherent  sentences.  "  For  God's  sake,"  I  ex- 
claimed, "  tell  me  what  ails  her ! " 

Dave  started  at  my  vehemence,  and  blurted  out  the 
dreadful  truth  at  once.  "  Cancer !  "  said  he  :  "  they  cut  it 
out,  yisterday  —  Dr.  Rankin,  and  Dr.  Lott,  here,  in  Honey- 
brook.  They  say  she  bore  it  oncommon,  but  she  's  mighty 
low,  this  mornin'." 

I  turned  deathly  sick  and  faint.  I  could  not  utter  a  word, 
but  wrung  my  hands  together  and  groaned.  Dave  pulled 
a  small,  flat  bottle  out  of  his  breast-pocket,  drew  the  cork 
with  his  teeth,  and  held  the  mouth  to  my  lips,  saying, 
"  Take  a  swaller.  You  need  n't  say  anything  about  it  be- 
fore the  old  woman." 

The  fluid  fire  which  went  down  my  throat  partially  re- 
stored me  ;  but  the  truth  was  still  too  horrible  to  be  fully 
comprehended.  In  spite  of  the  glowing  June-day,  a  chill 
struck  to  the  marrow  of  my  bones,  as  I  thought  of  my  poor, 
dear  little  mother,  mangled  by  surgeons'  knives,  and  per- 
haps at  that  very  moment  bleeding  to  death.  Then  a  bitter 
feeling  of  rage  and  resistance  took  possession  of  my  heart. 
"  Why  does  God  allow  such  things  ?  "  cried  the  inward 
voice  :  "•  why  make  her  suffer  such  tortures,  who  was  always 
so  pure  and  pious,  —  who  never  did  harm  to  a  single  creat- 
ure ?  "  The  mystery  of  the  past  four  days  was  now  clear 
to  me  :  but  how  blind  the  instinct  that  predicted  misfortune 
and  could  not  guess  its  nature !  If  mother  had  but  told 
me,  or  I  had  not  postponed  the  intended  explanation  I  It 


68  JOHN    GODFREY'S     FORTUNES. 

was  now  too  late  :  I  dared  not  chide  her  who  had  endured 
so  fearfully.  If  any  such  thought  arose,  I  asked  pardon  for 
it  of  the  same  God  I  had  accused  a  moment  before.  Bui 
the  Recording  Angel  does  not  open  his  book  for  the  blind 
words  of  the  young. 

Dave  had  been  talking,  I  suppose,  but  I  was  unconscious 
of  his  words.  Now  that  the  truth  had  been  told,  he  was 
ready  enough  to  give  all  the  particulars,  and  even  attempt, 
in  his  rough  way.  to  administer  consolation. 

"  You  must  n't  take  on  so,"  he  said,  patting  me  on  the 
knee  ;  "  maybe  she  '11  git  well,  after  all.  AVhile  there  's  life 
there  's  hope,  you  know.  Some  has  been  cured  that 
seemed  jist  about  as  bad  as  they  could  be.  The  wust  of 
cancer  is,  it  mostly  comes  back  agin.  It  's  like  Canada 
thistles :  you  may  dig  trenches  round  'em,  and  burn  'em, 
and  chop  the  roots  into  mince-meat,  and  like  as  not  you  've 
got  'em  next  year,  as  thick  as  ever." 

His  words  made  me  shudder.  "  Please  go  on  fasf-, 
Dave,"  I  entreated  ;  "  never  mind  telling  me  any  more  ;  I 
want  to  get  home." 

".  So  do  I,"  he  answered,  urging  the  mare  into  a  rapid 
trot.  "  I  did  n't  much  keer  to  come,  but  there  was  nobody 
else  handy,  and  th'  old  woman  said  you  must  be  fetched, 
right  away." 

As  we  approached  the  cottage,  Neighbor  Niles  came  out 
and  waited  for  us  at  the  gate.  Her  eyes  were  red,  and  they 
began  to  flow  again  when  I  got  down  from  the  wagon. 
She  wiped  them  with  her  apron,  took  me  by  the  hand,  and 
said,  in  a  whisper  louder  than  the  ordinary  voice  of  most 
women,  — 

"  I  '11  go  in  and  tell  her  you  're  here.     Wait  outside  un 
til  I  come  back.     The  Doctor  's  with  her." 

It  was  not  long  before  she  returned,  followed  by  Dr. 
liankin.  I  knew  him,  from  the  days  of  my  sprained  ankle, 
and  was  passing  him  with  a  hasty  greeting,  when  he  seized 
me  by  the  arm.  "  Control  yourself,  my  boy  ! "  said  he  5 
4  she  must  not  be  excited." 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  Hi) 

1  walked  into  the  bedroom.  It  was  very  well  to  say 
u  Control  yourself!  "  but  the  sight  of  my  mother,  with  half- 
closed  eyes,  her  face  as  white  as  the  pillow  beneath  it,  so 
unnerved  me  that  I  sank,  trembling,  upon  the  chair  at  the 
head  of  the  bed,  and  wept  long  and  bitterly.  I  felt  her 
fingers  upon  my  hair  :  '•  Poor  boy  !  "  she  sighed. 

"  Oh,  mother !  "  I  cried,  ••  why  did  n't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  'T  would  have  done  no  good,  Johnny,"  she  feebly 
answered.  "  I  was  glad  to  know  that  you  were  unconscious 
and  happy  all  the  time.  Besides,  it  's  only  this  spring  that 
I  grew  so  much  worse.  I  tried  to  bear  up,  my  dear  child, 
that  I  might  see  you  started  in  life  ;  but  I  am  afraid  it  's 
act  to  be." 

"  Don't  say  that,  mother.     I  can't  live  without  you." 

''  I  have  lived  ten  years  without  your  father,  child,  —  and 
they  were  not  unhappy  years.  God  does  not  allow  us  to 
grieve  without  ceasing.  You  will  have  some  one  to  love, 
as  I  have  had  you.  You  will  soon  be  a  man,  and  if  I 
should  live,  it  would  be  io  see  some  one  nearer  to  you  than 
I  am.  I  pray  that  you  may  be  happy,  John  ;  but  you  will 
not  forget  your  old  mother.  When  you  have  children  of 
your  own  upon  your  knees,  you  will  talk  to  them  some- 
times—  will  you  not? — of  the  Grandmother  Godfrey  who 
died  before  she  could  kiss  and  bless  them  for  your  sake  ?  " 

Her  own  tears  flowed  freely  as  she  ceased  to  speak, 
exhausted,  and  paused  to  recover  a  little  strength.  "  I  've 
been  blessed,"  she  said  at  last,  "  and  I  must  not  complain. 
You  've  been  a  good  boy,  Johnny  ;  you  've  been  a  dutiful 
and  affectionate  son  to  me.  You  're  my  joy  and  my  pride 
now,  —  it  can't  be  wrong  for  me  to  take  the  comfort  God 
sends.  There  would  be  light  upon  the  way  I  must  go,  if  I 
knew  that  you  could  feel  some  of  the  resignation  which  J 
have  learned." 

••  Mother,"  I  sobbed,  "  I  can't  be  resigned  to  lose  you.  I 
will  stay  with  you,  and  take  care  of  you.  I  should  nevei 
have  gone  away  to  school,  —  but  I  thought  only  of  my 
•elf!" 


70  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Her  face  was  suddenly  touched  with  a  solemn  beauty 
and  her  gentle  voice  had  a  sacred  authority  which  I  ac 
cepted  as  if  it  had  truly  spoken  across  the  mysterious  gulf 
which  was  soon  to  separate  us.  "  My  dear  child,"  she  said, 
"  listen  to  me.  I  know  how  you  feel  in  this  moment  1 
can  foresee  that  you  may  torture  yourself  after  I  am  gone 
with  the  recollection  of  this  or  that  duty  omitted,  of  some 
hasty  word  spoken,  perhaps  some  impatient  thought  whicfc 
merely  passed  through  your  mind.  After  your  father  died, 
I  called  aloud,  in  anguish  and  prayer,  for  his  spirit  to  speak 
down  from  heaven  and  forgive  me  all  things  wherein  I  had 
failed  of  my  duty  towards  him.  But  I  know  now  that  the 
imperfections  of  our  conduct  here  are  not  remembered 
against  us,  if  the  heart  be  faithful  in  its  love.  If  you  were 
ever  undutiful  in  word  or  thought,  the  sun  never  went 
down  and  left  you  unforgiven.  Remember  this,  and  that 
all  I  have  tried  to  do  for  you  has  been  poor  payment  for 
the  blessing  you  have  always  been  to  me  !  " 

Blessed  words,  that  fell  like  balm  on  my  overwhelming 
sorrow !  I  took  them  to  my  heart  and  held  them  there,  as 
if  with  a  presentiment  of  the  precious  consolation  they 
were  thenceforth  to  contain.  I  pressed  her  pale  hand  ten- 
derly, laid  my  cheek  upon  it,  and  was  silent,  for  it  seemed 
to  me  that  an  angel  was  indeed  present  in  the  little  room. 

After  a  while,  Neighbor  Niles  softly  opened  the  door, 
drew  near,  and  whispered,  "  Mr.  Woolley 's  here --from 
Readin' ;  —  shall  I  bring  him  in  ?  " 

My  mother  assented. 

I  had  not  seen  my  uncle  for  some  years,  and  retained 
but  an  indistinct  recollection  of  his  appearance.  He  had 
been  sent  for,  early  in  the  morning,  at  my  mother's  urgi-nt 
request,  as  I  afterwards  learned.  When  the  door  opened. 
I  saw  a  portly  figure  advancing  through  the  gathering  dusk 
of  the  room,  bend  over  my  head  towards  my  mother,  and 
say,  in  a  husky  voice,  "  How  do  you  feel,  Barbara?" 

"  I  am  very  weak,"  mother  replied.      "  This  is  John, 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  71 

Amos.  John,  shake  hands  with  your  uncle,  and  then  leave 
tne  for  a  little  while.  I  have  something  to  say  to  him." 

I  rose.  A  fat  hand  closed  upon  mine,  and  again  I  heard 
the  husky  voice,  "  Well,  really,  as  tall  as  this  '<  I  had  no 
idea,  Barbara." 

I  do  not  know  whether  he  was  aware  of  my  mother's 
condition.  Perhaps  not ;  but  it  was  impossible  for  me,  at 
the  moment,  to  credit  him  with  the  doubt.  To  my  ear,  his 
words  expressed  a  cruel  coldness  and  indifference  ;  and  I 
went  forth  from  the  room  with  a  spark  of  resentment 
already  kindled  in  the  midst  of  my  grief.  I  threw  myself 
into  my  accustomed  seat  by  the  front  window,  and  gave 
myself  up  to  the  gloomy  chaos  of  my  emotions. 

Neighbor  Niles  was  preparing  the  table  for  supper, 
stopping  now  and  then  to  wipe  her  eyes,  and  "  sniffling " 
with  a  loud,  spasmodic  noise,  which  drove  me  nearly  to  dis- 
traction. My  excited  nerves  could  not  bear  it  Once  she 
put  down  a  plate  of  something,  crossed  the  room  to  my 
chair,  and  laid  her  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "  Johnny,"  — 
she  began  — 

"  Let  me  be  !  "  I  cried,  fiercely,  turning  away  from  her 
with  a  jerk. 

The  good  woman  burst  into  fresh  tears,  and  instantlv 
left  me.  •'  Them  's  the  worst,"  I  heard  her  mutter  to  her- 
self ;  "  I  'd  ruther  he  'd  half  break  his  heart  a-cryin'." 
And,  indeed,  I  was  presently  sorry  for  the  rude  way  in 
which  I  had  repelled  her  sympathy,  though  I  could  not 
encourage  her  to  renew  it. 

Supper  was  delayed,  nearly  an  hour,  waiting  for  my 
uncle.  When  he  appeared,  it  was  with  a  grave  and  sol- 
emn countenance.  I  took  my  seat  beside  him  very  reluc- 
tantly :  it  seemed  dreadful  to  me  to  eat  and  drink  while  my 
mother  might  be  dying  in  the  next  room.  Neighbor  Niles, 
however,  would  hear  of  nothing  else.  She  had  already 
lifted  the  tea-pot,  in  her  haste  to  serve  us,  when  my  uncle 
suddenly  bowed  his  head  and  commenced  a  grace.  Neigh 


72  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

bor  Niles  was  so  confused  that  she  stood  with  the  tea-pol 
suspended  in  the  air  until  he  had  finished.  I,  who  with 
difficulty  swallowed  a  little  tea,  was  shocked  at  the  appetite 
he  displayed,  forgetting  that  he  was  human,  and  that  it  was 
a  long  drive  from  Reading. 

"  I  am  afraid,  John,"  he  finally  said,  "  that  the  Lord  is 
about  to  chasten  you.  It  is  some  comfort  to  know  that 
your  mother  seems  to  be  in  a  proper  frame  of  mind.  Her 
ways  were  never  the  same  as  mine,  but  it  is  not  too  late, 
even  at  the  eleventh  hour,  to  accept  the  grace  which  is 
freely  offered.  It  is  not  for  me  to  judge,  but  I  am  hopeful 
that  she  will  be  saved.  I  trust  that  you  will  not  delay  to 
choose  the  safe  and  the  narrow  path.  Do  you  love  your 
Saviour  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  —  somewhat  mechanically,  I  fear. 

"  Are  you  willing  to  give  up  everything  and  follow 
Him?" 

"  Uncle  Amos,"  I  said,  "  I  wish  you  would  n't  ask  me 
any  more  questions."  I  left  the  table,  and  stole  quietly 
into  mother's  room.  As  I  was  passing  out  of  the  door  I 
heard  Neighbor  Niles  say,  "  This  is  no  time  to  be  preachin' 
at  the  poor  boy." 

That  night  my  uncle  took  possession  of  my  bed  in  the 
attic.  I  refused  to  sleep,  and  the  considerate  nurse  allowed 
me  to  watch  with  her.  Mother's  condition  seemed  to  be 
stupor  rather  than  healthy  slumber.  There  was  no  recu- 
perative power  left  in  her  system,  and  the  physician  had 
already  declared  that  she  would  not  recover  from  the  shock 
of  the  operation.  He  informed  me,  afterwards,  that  the 
strength  of  her  system  had  been  reduced,  for  years,  by  the 
lack  of  rich  and  nourishing  food,  —  which  circumstance,  if 
it  did  not  create  the  disease,  had  certainly  very  much  accel 
crated  its  progress.  "  She  was  not  a  plant  that  would 
thrive  on  a  poor  soil,"  he  said,  in  his  quaint  way;  ''she 
ought  to  have  been  planted  in  fowl  and  venison,  and 
watered  with  Port" 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  78 

The  long,  long  night  dragged  away,  and  when  the  black 
mass  of  the  lilac-bush  at  the  window  began  to  glimmer  in 
dusky  green,  and  some  awakening  birds  cheeped  in  the 
branches  of  the  plum-tree,  mother  seemed  to  revive.  1 
was  shocked  to  see,  in  the  wan  light,  how  her  round  cheeks 
had  already  fallen  in,  and  what  a  ghastly  dimness  dwelt  in 
her  dark  eyes.  The  nurse  administered  some  stimulating 
mixture,  smoothed  the  pillow,  and,  obeying  some  tender 
instinct,  left  us  together.  Mother's  eyes  called  me  to  her 
I  stooped  down  and  kissed  her  lips. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  I  must  tell  you  now,  while  I  have 
strength,  what  your  uncle  and  I  have  agreed  upon.  The 
money,  you  know,  is  in  his  hands,  and  it  is  better  that  he 
should  keep  it  in  trust  until  you  are  of  age.  You  are  to 
stay  at  school  until  the  fall.  I  borrowed  the  money  of 
Mr.  Rand.  There  is  a  mortgage  on  the  house  and  lot,  and 
the  doctors  must  be  paid  :  so  all  will  be  sold,  except  some 
little  things  that  you  may  keep  for  my  sake.  When  you 
leave  school,  your  uncle  will  take  you.  He  says  you  can 
assist  in  his  store  and  learn  something  about  business. 
Your  aunt  Peggy  is  my  sister,  you  know,  and  it  will  be  a 
home  for  you.  I  could  n't  bear  to  think  that  you  must  go 
among  strangers.  When  you  're  of  age,  you  '11  have  a 
little  something  to  start  you  in  the  world,  and  if  my  bless- 
ing can  reach  you,  it  will  rest  upon  you  day  and  night" 

The  prospect  of  living  with  my  uncle  was  not  pleasant, 
but  it  seemed  natural  and  proper,  and  not  for  worlds  would 
I  have  deprived  the  dear  sufferer  of  the  comfort  which  she 
drew  from  this  disposition  of  my  fortunes.  She  repeated 
her  words  of  consolation,  in  a  voice  that  grew  fainter  and 
more  broken,  and  then  lay  for  a  long  time  silent,  with  her 
hand  in  mine.  Once  again  she  half  opened  her  eyes,  and, 
while  a  brief,  shadowy  smile  flitted  about  her  lips,  whispered 
"'  Johnny ! " 

"  I  am  here,  with  you,  mother,"  I  said,  fondling  the  list- 
less hand. 


74  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

She  did  not  reply :  this  was  the  last  sign  of  conscious- 
ness she  gave.  The  conquered  life  still  lingered,  hour 
after  hour,  as  if  from  the  mere  mechanical  habit  of  the 
bodily  functions.  But  the  delicate  mechanism  moved  more 
and  more  slowly,  and,  before  sunset,  it  had  stopped  forever 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  15 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IN  WHICH  I  DISCOVER  A  NEW  RELATIVE. 

WHY  should  I  enter  into  all  the  dreary  details  of  the 
funeral  preparations,  —  of  those  black  summer  days,  which 
still  lie,  an  unfaded  blot,  in  the  soft  and  tender  light  of 
resignation  now  shining  over  my  sorrow  ?  I  passed  through 
the  usual  experience  of  one  struck  by  sudden  and  bittei 
calamity :  my  heart  was  chilled  and  benumbed  by  its  inabil- 
ity to  comprehend  the  truth.  My  dull,  silent,  apathetic 
mood  must  have  seemed,  to  the  shallow-judging  neighbors, 
a  want  of  feeling;  only  Neighbor  Niles  and  her  husband 
guessed  the  truth.  I  saw  men  and  women,  as  trees,  come 
and  go  ;  some  of  them  spoke  to  me,  and  when  I  was  forced 
to  speak  in  turn,  it  was  with  painful  unwillingness.  7 
heard  my  voice,  as  if  it  were  something  apart  from  myself; 
I  even  seemed,  through  some  strange  extraverted  sense,  to 
stand  aside  and  contemplate  my  own  part  in  the  solem- 
nities. 

When  I  look  back,  now,  I  see  a  slender  youth,  dressed 
in  an  ill-fitting  black  suit,  led  through  the  gate  in  the  low 
churchyard  wall  by  my  uncle  Woolley.  It  is  not  myself; 
but  I  feel  at  my  heart  the  numb,  steady  ache  of  his,  which 
shall  outlast  a  sharper  grief.  His  eyes  are  fixed  on  the 
ground,  but  I  know  —  for  I  have  often  been  told  so  —  that 
they  are  like  my  mother's.  His  hair  cannot  be  described 
by  any  other  color  than  dark  auburn,  and  hangs,  long  and 
loose,  over  his  ears ;  his  skin  is  fair,  but  very  much 
freckled,  and  his  features,  I  fancy,  would  wear  an  earnest, 
eager  expression  in  any  happier  mood.  I  see  this  boy  aa 


76  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

some  mysterious  double  of  mine,  standing,  cold  and  pale, 
beside  the  open  grave  ;  but  the  stupor  of  his  grief  is  hardef 
to  bear,  even  in  memory,  than  the  keen  reality  to  which  I 
afterwards  awoke. 

1  let  things  take  their  course,  knowing  that  the  circum- 
stances of  my  immediate  future  were  already  arranged. 
My  uncle  Woolley,  as  my  guardian  and  the  executor  of  my 
mother's  little  estate,  assumed,  without  consulting  me,  the 
disposal  of  the  cottage  and  furniture.  Mr.  Rand  purchased 
the  former,  as  a  convenient  tenant-house  for  some  of  his 
farm-hands,  and  the  latter,  with'  the  exception  of  mother's 
rocking-chair,  which  she  bequeathed  to  Neighbor  Niles.  was 
sold  at  auction.  This,  however,  took  place  after  my  return 
to  the  school,  and  I  was  spared  the  pain  of  seeing  my  home 
broken  to  pieces  and  its  fragments  scattered  to  the  winds. 
My  uncle  probably  gave  me  less  credit  for  a  practical  com- 
prehension of  the  matter  than  I  really  deserved.  His  first 
conversation  with  me  had  been  unfortunate,  both  in  point 
of  time  and  subject,  and  neither  of  us,  I  suspect,  felt  in- 
clined, just  then,  to  renew  the  attempt  at  an  intimacy  befit- 
ting our  mutual  relation. 

In  a  few  days  I  found  myself  back  again  at  Honeybrook 
Academy.  The  return  was  a  relief,  in  every  way.  The 
knowledge  of  my  bereavement  had,  of  course,  preceded  me. 
and  I  was  received  with  the  half-reverential  kindness  which 
any  pack  of  boys,  however  rough  and  thoughtless,  will  never 
fail  to  accord,  in  like  circumstances.  Miss  Hitchcock,  it  is 
true,  gave  me  a  moment's  exasperation  by  her  awkward  at- 
tempt at  condolence,  quoting  the  hackneyed  "  pattida  mors" 
&c.,  but  Mother  Dymond  actually  dropped  a  few  tears  from 
her  silly  eyes  as  she  said,  "  I  'm  so  sorry,  Godfrey  ;  I  quite 
took  to  her  that  time  she  was  here." 

Penrose  met  me  with  a  long,  silent  pressure  of  the  hand, 
and  the  stolid  calm  with  which  I  had  heard  the  others 
melted  for  the  first  time.  My  eyes  grew  suddenly  dim,  and 
I  turned  away 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  77 

I  had  already  profited  by  nearly  two  years'  experience  of 
human  nature,  or,  rather,  boy-nature,  and  was  careful  not 
to  let  my  knowledge  of  his  sympathy  lead  me  into  advances 
which  might,  notwithstanding  all  that  had  happened,  be 
repelled.  I  had  a  presentiment  that  he  esteemed  me  be- 
cause I  imitated  his  own  reticence,  and  that  he  was  sus- 
picious of  any  intimacy  which  did  not  proceed  from  himself. 
In  spite  of  his  beauty,  which  seemed  to  be  dimly  felt  and 
respected  by  the  whole  school,  and  the  tender  spot  in  my 
heart,  kindling  anew  whenever  I  recalled  the  night  he  had 
taken  me  to  his  breast,  1  was  not  sure  that  I  could  wholly 
like  and  trust  him  —  could  ever  feel  for  him  the  same  open, 
unquestioning  affection  which  I  bestowed,  for  example,  on 
Bob  Simmons. 

In  my  studies  I  obtained,  at  least,  a  temporary  release 
from  sorrow.  The  boys  found  it  natural  that  I  should  not 
join  in  the  sports  of  play-hours,  or  the  wild,  stolen  expedi- 
tions in  which  I  had  formerly  taken  delight.  When  I  closed 
my  Lempriere  and  Leverett,  I  wandered  off  to  the  nearest 
bit  of  woodland,  flung  myself  on  the  brown  moss  under 
some  beech-tree,  and  listened  idly  to  the  tapping  of  the 
woodpecker,  or  the  rustle  of  squirrels  through  the  fallen 
leaves. 

There  was  a  little  shaded  dell,  in  particular,  which  was 
my  favorite  haunt.  A  branch  of  Cat  Creek  (as  the  stream 
in  the  valley  was  called)  ran  through  it,  murmuring  gently 
over  stones  and  dead  tree-trunks.  Here,  in  moist  spots, 
the  trillium  hung  its  crimson,  bell-like  fruit  under  the  hori- 
zontal roof  of  its  three  broad  leaves,  and  the  orange  orchis 
shot  up  feathery  spikes  of  flowers,  bright  as  the  breast  of 
an  oriole.  In  the  thickest  shade  of  this  dell,  a  large  tree 
had  fallen  across  the  stream  from  bank  to  bank,  above  a 
dark,  glassy  trout-pool.  One  crooked  branch,  rising  in  the 
middle,  formed  the  back  of  a  rough  natural  chair ;  and  hithe! 
I  came  habitually,  bringing  some  work  borrowed  from  Dr 
Dymond's  library.  I  remember  reading  there  Mrs.  He 


78  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

raans's  "  Forest  Sanctuary,"  with  a  delight  whuh,  alas  !  the 
poem  can  never  give  again,  even  with  such  accessories. 

One  day  I  was  startled  from  my  book  by  hearing  the 
dead  twigs  on  the  higher  bank  snap  under  the  step  of  some 
one  descending  into  the  glen.  I  looked  up  and  saw  Pen 
rose  coming  leisurely  down,  cutting  now  and  then  at  a  wood- 
moth  or  dragon-fly  with  a  switch  of  leather-wood.  Almost 
at  the  same  moment  he  espied  me. 

"  Hallo,  Godfrey  !  Are  you  there  ?  "  he  said,  turning 
towards  my  perch.  "  You  show  a  romantic  taste,  upon  my 
word ! " 

The  irony,  if  he  meant  it  for  such,  went  no  further.  The 
mocking  smile  vanished  from  his  lips,  and  his  face  became 
grave  as  he  sprang  upon  the  log  and  took  a  seat  carelessly 
against  the  roots.  For  a  minute  he  bent  forward  and  looked 
down  into  the  glassy  basin. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  he,  suddenly,  striking  the  water  with  his 
switch,  so  that  it  seemed  to  snap  like  the  splitting  of  a  real 
mirror,  —  "  only  my  own  face  !  I  'm  no  Narcissus." 

"  You  could  n't  change  into  a  flower,  with  your  complex- 
ion, anyhow,"  I  remarked. 

"  Curse  my  complexion  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  it 's  a  kind 
that  brings  bad  blood,  —  my  father  has  it,  too  !  " 

I  was  rather  startled  at  this  outbreak,  and  said  nothing. 
He,  too,  seemed  to  become  conscious  of  his  vehemence. 
"  Godfrey,"  he  asked,  "  do  you  remember  your  father  ? 
What  kind  of  a  man  was  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  I  remember  him  very  well.  I  was 
eight  years  old  when  he  died.  He  was  quiet  and  steady. 
I  can't  recall  many  things  that  he  said ;  but  as  good 
and  honest  a  man  as  ever  lived,  I  believe.  If  he  had  n't 
been,  mother  could  n't  have  loved  him  so,  to  the  very  end 
of  her  life." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  as  if 
speaking  to  himself ;  "  there  are  such  men.  I  'm  sorry  yoc 
lost  your  mother,  —  no  need  to  tell  you  that  You  're  go 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  7S 

ing  to  leave  school  at  the  end  of  the  term.  Where  will 
you  go  ?  You  have  other  relations,  of  course  ?  " 

Encouraged  by  the  interest  which  Penrose  showed  in  mj 
condition,  I  related  to  him  what  had  been  decided  upon  by 
my  mother  and  my  uncle,  without  concealing  the  unfavora- 
ble impression  which  the  latter  had  made  upon  me,  or  my 
distaste  at  the  prospect  before  me. 

"  But  you  must  have  other  aunts  and  uncles,"  he  said. 
"  or  relatives  a  little  further  off.  On  your  father's  side,  for 
instance  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  I  answered ;  "  but  they  never  visited 
mother,  and  I  shall  not  hunt  them  up  now.  Aunt  Peggy  is 
mother's  only  living  sister.  Grandfather  Hatzfeld  had  a 
son,  —  my  uncle  John,  after  whom  I  was  named,  —  but  he 
never  married,  and  died  long  ago." 

"  Hatzfeld  ?     Was  your  mother's  name  Hatzfeld  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Penrose  relapsed  into  a  fit  of  silence.  "  It  would  be 
strange,"  he  said  to  himself ;  then,  lifting  his  head,  asked : 

"  Had  your  grandfather  Hatzfeld  brothers  and  sisters  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  Aunt  Christina  was  his  sister :  she  left  mother 
our  little  place  at  the  Cross-Keys  when  she  died.  Now,  I 
recollect,  I  have  heard  mother  speak  of  another  aunt,  Anna, 
who  married  and  settled  somewhere  in  New  Jersey ;  I  for- 
get her  name,  —  it  began  with  D.  Grandfather  had  an 
older  brother,  too,  but  I  think  he  went  to  Ohio.  Mother 
never  talked  much  about  him :  he  did  n't  act  fairly  towards 
grandfather." 

"  D  ?  "  asked  Penrose,  with  a  curious  interest  "  Would 
you  know  the  name  if  you  were  to  hear  it  ?  Was  it  Den- 
ning ?  " 

"  Yes,  that 's  it !  "  I  exclaimed ;  "  why,  how  could  you 
guess  "  — 

"  Because  Anna  Denning  was  my  grandmother  —  mj 
mother's  mother  !  When  you  mentioned  the  name  of  Hatz- 
feld. it  all  came  into  my  mind  at  once.  Why,  Godfrey 


80  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

your  mother  and  mine  were  first  cousins,  —  we  are  cousins 
therefore  ! " 

He  sat  upright  on  the  log  and  stretched  out  his  hand, 
which  I  took  and  held.  "  Penrose  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  can  it 
be  possible  ?  " 

"  Plain  as  a  pike-staff." 

"  Oh,  are  you  serious,  Penrose  ?    I  can  hardly  believe  it." 

I  still  held  his  hand,  as  if  the  newly-found  relationship 
might  slip  away  on  releasing  it.  The  old  mocking  light 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  show  the  strawberry-mark  on  my 
left  arm  ?  "  he  asked  ;  "  or  a  mole  on  my  breast,  with  three 
long  black  hairs  growing  out  of  it  ?  Cousins  are  plenty, 
and  you  may  n't  thank  me  for  the  discovery." 

"  I  am  so  glad  ! "  I  cried ;  "  I  have  no  cousin  :  it  is  the 
next  thing  to  a  brother ! " 

His  face  softened  again.     "  You  're  a  good  fellow.  God- 
frey," said  he,  "  or  Cousin  John,  if  you  like  that  bettei 
Call  me  Alexander,  if  you  choose.     Since  it  is  so,  I  wish  1 
had  known  it  sooner." 

"  If  my  poor  mother  could  have  known  it !  "  I  sighed. 

"  That 's  it ! "  he  exclaimed,  —  "  the  family  likeness  be- 
tween your  mother  and  mine.  It  puzzled  me  when  I  saw 
her.  My  mother  has  been  dead  three  years,  and  there  's 
a  —  I  won't  say  what  —  in  her  place.  As  you  're  one  of 
the  family  now,  Godfrey,  you  may  as  well  learn  it  from  me 
as  from  some  one  else,  later.  My  father  and  mother  did  n't 
live  happily  together ;  but  it  was  not  her  fault.  While  she 
lived,  my  sister  and  I  had  some  comfort  at  home ;  she  has 

it  yet,  for  that  matter,  but  I There  's  no  use  in  going 

over  the  story,  except  this  much  :  it  was  n't  six  months  after 
my  mother's  death  before  my  father  married  again.  Mar- 
ried whom,  do  you  think?  His  cook!  —  a  vulgar,  brazer' 
wench,  who  sits  down  to  the  table  in  the  silks  and  laces  of 
the  dead  !  And  worse  than  that,  —  the  marriage  brought 
shame  with  it,  —  if  you  can't  guess  what  that  means,  now 


JOHN   GODFREY'S    :ORTUNES.  81 

you  11  find  out  after  a  while  ;  don't  ask  me  to  say  anything 
more !  I  am  as  proud  as  my  mother  was,  and  do  you  think 
I  could  forgive  my  father  this,  even  if  he  had  not  always 
treated  me  like  a  brute  ?  " 

Penrose's  eyes  flashed  through  the  indignant  moisture 
which  gathered  in  them.  The  warm  olive  of  his  skin  had 
turned  to  a  livid  paleness,  and  his  features  were  hard  and 
cruel.  I  was  almost  afraid  of  him. 

"  He  to  demand  of  me  that  I  should  call  her  '  mother  ' ! ' 
he  broke  out  again,  his  lip  quivering,  but  not  with  tender- 
ness, —  '•  it  was  forbearance  enough  that  I  did  not  give  her 
the  name  she  deserved  !  And  my  sister.  —  but  I  suppose 
she  is  like  most  women,  bent  in  any  direction  by  anybody 
stronger  than  themselves.  She  stays  at  home,  —  no,  not  at 
home,  but  with  them,  —  and  writes  me  letters  full  of  very 
good  advice.  Oh,  yes.  she  's  a  miracle  of  wisdom  !  She  's 
a  young  lady  of  twenty -one,  and  —  and  —  The  Cook  finds 
it  very  convenient  to  learn  fashionable  airs  of  her,  and  how 
to  eat,  and  to  enter  a  room,  and  hold  her  fan,  and  talk  with- 
out yelling  as  if  at  the  house-maid,  and  all  the  rest  of  their 
damnable  folly  !  There  !  How  do  you  like  being  related 
to  such  a  pleasant  family  as  that  ?  " 

I  tried  to  stay  the  flood  of  bitterness,  which  revealed  to 
me  a  fate  even  more  desolate  than  my  own.  "  Penrose."  i 
said,  —  "  Cousin  Alexander,  you  are  so  strong  and  brave, 
you  can  make  your  own  way  in  the  world,  without  their 
help.  I  'm  less  able  than  you,  yet  I  must  do  it  I  don't 
know  why  God  allows  some  things  to  happen,  unless  it 's  to 
try  us." 

"  None  of  that ! "  he  cried,  though  less  passionately  : 
"I've  worried  my  brain  enough,  thinking  of  it.  I've 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  most  men  are  mean,  contemp- 
tible creatures,  and  their  good  or  bad  opinion  is  n't  worth 
a  curse.  If  I  take  care  of  myself  and  don't  sink  down 
among  the  lowest,  I  shall  be  counted  honest,  and  virtuous 
and  the  Lord  knows  what ;  but  I  .sometimes  think  that,  if 
I 


82  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FOKTUNES. 

there  are  such  things  as  honesty  and  virtue,  we  must  look 
for  tiiem  among  the  dregs  of  society.  The  top,  I  know,  is 
nothing  but  a  stinking  scum." 

I  was  both  pained  and  shocked  ac  the  cynicism  of  these 
utterances,  so  harshly  discordant  with  the  youth  and  the  glo- 
rious physical  advantages  of  my  cousin.  Yes  !  the  moment 
the  new  relation  between  us  was  discovered  and  accepted 
it  established  the  bond  which  I  felt  to  be  both  natural  and 
welcome.  It  interpreted  the  previous  sensation  which  he 
had  excited  in  my  nature.  Some  secret  sympathy  had 
bent,  like  the  hazel  wand  in  the  hand  of  the  diviner,  to 
the  hidden  rill  of  blood.  But  the  kinship  of  blood  is  not 
always  that  of  the  heart.  -  A  friend  is  closer  than  a 
brother,"  say  the  Proverbs;  I  did  not  feel  sure  that  he 
could  be  the  friend  I  needed  and  craved,  but  cousinship 
was  a  familiar  and  affectionate  tie,  existing  without  our  vo- 
lition, justifying  a  certain  amount  of  reciprocal  interest, 
and  binding  neither  to  duties  which  time  and  the  changes 
of  life  might  render  embarrassing.  The  confidence  which 
Penrose  had  reposed  in  me  came,  therefore,  in  some  de- 
gree, as  the  right  of  my  relationship.  I  had  paid  for  it,  in 
advance,  by  my  own. 

Hence  I  was  saved,  on  the  one  hand,  from  being  drawn, 
during  the  warm,  confiding  outset  of  life,  into  a  sneering 
philosophy,  which  I  might  never  have  outgrown,  and  on  the 
other  hand,  from  judging  too  harshly  of  Penrose's  inherent 
character.  It  would  do  no  good  at  present,  I  saw,  to  pro- 
test against  his  expressions ;  so  I  merely  said,  — 

"  You  know  more  of  the  world  than  I  do,  Alexander ; 
but  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  in  that  strain." 

"  Perhaps  you  're  right,  old  fellow,"  said  he ;  "  any  way, 
I  don't  include  you  among  the  rabble.  I  might  have  held 
my  tongue  about  my  grandmother,  if  I  had  chosen  ;  but  I 
guess  you  and  I  are  not  nearly  enough  related  to  fall  out. 
There  goes  the  bell :  pick  up  your  Eclogues,  and  come 
along !  * 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  83 

We  went  back  to  the  school,  arm  in  arm,  talking  famil- 

O 

iarly.  From  that  time  forward  the  recognized,  mysterious 
circle  of  Family  enclosed  us,  and  Penrose's  manner  towards 
me  was  commensurate  with  the  change.  Never  demonstra- 
tive, never  even  positively  affectionate,  he  stood  at  least  on 
level  ground  with  me,  and  there  was  no  wall  between  us. 
The  other  boys,  of  course,  noticed  the  difference  in  oui 
relations,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  inquisitive  Thorn 
ton  said,  — 

"  I  say.  Pen,  how  is  it  that  you  've  got  to  calling  Godfrey 
'  John,'  all  at  once  ?  " 

"  Because  he  is  my  cousin." 

Thornton's  eyes  opened  very  wide.  "  The  devil  he  is ! " 
he  exclaimed.  (Thornton  was  unnecessarily  profane,  be- 
cause he  thought  it  made  him  seem  more  important) 
"When  did  you  find  that  out?" 

"  It 's  none  of  your  business,"  said  Pen  rose,  turning  on 
his  heel.  Thornton  thereupon  went  off,  and  communicated 
the  fact  to  the  whole  school  in  less  than  ten  minutes. 

After  this,  my  cousin  and  I  frequently  walked  out  to  the 
glen  together.  I  was  glad  to  see  that  the  kinship,  so  inex- 
pressibly welcome  to  myself,  was  also  satisfactory  to  him. 
His  first  fragmentary  confidence  was  completed  by  the  de- 
tails of  his  life,  as  he  recalled  them  from  time  to  time ;  bu 
his  bitter,  disappointed,  unbelieving  mood  always  came  to 
the  surface,  and  I  began  to  fear  that  it  had  already  prede- 
termined the  character  of  his  after-life. 

One  day,  when  he  had  been  unusually  gloomy  in  his 
utterances,  he  handed  me  a  letter,  saying,  "  Read  that."  It 
was  from  his  sister,  and  ran,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  as 
follows :  — 

" Street,  Philadelphia. 

"Mr  DEAR  BROTHER,  —  Yours  of  the  10th  is  received 
I  am  now  so  accustomed  to  your  sarcastic  style,  that  I  al- 
ways know  what  to  expect  when  I  open  one  of  your  epis- 
tles. 1  wish  you  joy  of  your  —  well,  I  must  say  our  ne\* 


84  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

cousin,  though  I  am  sorry  you  did  not  let  me  know  of  the 
discovery  before  telling  him.  He  must  be  gauche  and  un- 
presentable in  a  degree ;  but  then,  I  suppose,  there  's  no 
likelihood  of  his  ever  getting  into  our  set.  It  is  time  your 
schooling  was  finished,  so  that  I  might  have  you  for  awhile  as 
my  chevalier.  Between  ourselves,  I  'in  rather  tired  of  going 
about  with  "  (here  the  word  "  Mamma  "  had  evidently  been 
written  and  then  blotted  out) "  Mrs.  Pen  rose.  Not  but 
what  she  continues  to  improve,  —  only,  I  am  never  certain 
of  her  not  committing  some  niaiserie.  which  quite  puts  me 
out.  However,  she  behaves  well  enough  at  home,  and  1 
hope  you  will  overcome  your  prejudice  in  the  end,  for  my 
sake.  When  you  know  as  much  about  Society  as  I  do,  you 
will  see  that  it  's  always  best  to  smooth  over  what 's  irrev- 
ocable. People  are  beginning  to  forget  the  scandal,  since 
that  affair  of  Denbigh  has  given  them  something  else  to 
talk  about.  We  were  at  Mrs.  Delane's  ball  on  Wednes- 
day ;  I  made  her  put  on  blue  cut  velvet,  and  she  did  not 
look  so  bad.  Mrs.  Vane  nodded,  and  of  course  she  was 
triumphant.  I  think  Papa  gives  me  the  credit  for  all  thu* 
has  been  done,  —  I  'm  sure  I  deserve  it.  It 's  a  race  be- 
tween Mrs.  P.  and  myself  which  shall  have  the  new  India 
shawl  at  Stokes's;  but  I  shall  get  it,  because  Mrs.  P.  knows 
that  I  could  teach  her  to  blunder  awfully  as  well  as  to  be- 
have correctly,  and  would  do  it,  in  spite  of  Papa's  swearing. 
if  she  drives  me  to  desperation.  By  the  by,  he  has  just 
come  into  the  room,  and  says,  '  You  are  writing  to  the  cub, 
as  usual,  I  suppose,  Matilda.'  So  there  you  have  him,  to 
the  life." 

There  was  much  more,  in  the  same  style.  I  must  have 
colored,  with  offended  pride,  on  reading  the  opening  lines, 
for  on  looking  up,  involuntarily,  I  saw  my  cousin  smile,  but 
so  frankly  and  pleasantly  that  it  instantly  healed  the  wound 
his  sister  made.  I  confess  the  letter  disgusted  me ;  but  it 

O 

was  written  by  my  own  cousin  also,  and  I  did  not  dare  tc 


J-JiiN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  85 

express  to  her  brother  what  I  felt     I  handed  the  letter 
back  to  him  in  silence. 

"Come    now,    John,"    said   he,  —  "out   with  the  truth 
Would  you  not  as  lief  be  out  of  our  family  again ''.  " 

•*  Not  while  you  are  in  it,  Alexander,"  I  replie  i.  /< 


86  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  YD. 

IK    WHICH    CNCLE    AND    AUXT   WOOLLEY    TAKE    CHARGK 
OF    ME. 

As  the  close  of  my  last  term  at  the  Honeybrook  Acad- 
emy approached,  I  felt  none  of  the  eagerness  for  change 
of  the  delight  in  coming  release  from  study,  which  would 
have  been  natural  to  a  boy  of  my  age.  On  the  contrary.  I 
grew  more  and  more  reluctant  to  leave  a  spot  which  was 
now  so  familiar,  and  to  give  up  the  advantages  of  instruc- 
tion at  a  time  when  I  began  to  understand  their  impor- 
tance. Both  Miss  Hitchcock  and  Dr.  Dymond  were  sorry 
to  lose  me,  —  the  former  because  there  was  no  other  Latin 
pupil  far  enough  advanced  to  read  her  expurgated  Horace, 
and  the  latter  because  my  original  dialogues  and  speeches 
were  beginning  to  constitute  H  feature  in  the  semi-annual 
exhibitions.  If,  among  the  boys,  I  had  contracted  no 
strong,  permanent  friendship,  I  had  at  least  encountered 
no  more  than  transient  enmities  ;  besides,  I  was  getting  to 
be  one  of  the  older  and  more  conspicuous  scholars,  and 
thus  enjoyed  a  certain  amount  of  authority. 

It  was  hardest  of  all  to  part  with  Penrose.  I  could  talk 
with  him  of  my  mother,  — could  ask  his  counsel,  as  a  rela- 
tive, in  regard  to  my  proposed  plans  of  life.  The  latter  were 
still  indefinite,  it  is  true  ;  but  they  pointed  towards  teaching 
as  a  preliminary  employment  Behind  that  crowded  a 
host  of  ambitious  dreams,  upon  which  I  secretly  fed  my 
mind.  Penrose,  however,  was  to  leave  the  school  in  the 
spring,  and  I  should  therefore  have  lost  him  six  months 
later,  in  any  case. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  87 

On  the  last  Sabbath  before  my  departure,  I  walked  ovei 
to  the  Cross- Keys,  and  spent  the  day  with  the  Niles  family 
The  shutters  of  the  little  cottage  were  still  closed ;  I  was 
glad  of  it  If  strange  faces  had  gazed  from  the  windows.  I 
should  have  passed  with  averted  head ;  but  I  could  now 
stop  and  look  over  the  paling,  and  peer  under  the  boughs 
of  the  plum-tree  for  a  glimpse  of  the  garden  in  the  rear 
Weeds  were  growing  apace,  and  in  the  narrow  strip  of  the 
"  front  yard  "  I  missed  a  dainty  little  rose-bush  —  mother's 
pet  —  which  used  to  be  covered  with  diminutive  double, 
crimson  blossoms.  Neighbor  Niles  always  called  it  the 
"  fi'penny-bit  rose."  I  afterwards  found  it  in  the  church- 
yard, so  carefully  transplanted  that  it  was  already  blooming 
on  mother's  grave.  It  was  not  necessary  to  ask  whose 
pious  hand  had  placed  it  there. 

The  good  Neighbor  and  "  Dave  "  gave  me  an  honest  and 
hearty  welcome.  She  insisted  on  opening  the  best  room, 
though  I  would  have  preferred  the  kitchen,  where  I  could 
hear  her  cheery  voice  alternately  from  the  vicinity  of  cook- 
stove,  cupboard,  and  table.  For  dinner  we  had  the  plain, 
yet  most  bountiful  fare  of  the  country,  and  she  heaped  my 
plate  far  beyond  my  powers  of  eating,  saying,  with  every 
added  spoonful,  "  I  expect  you  're  half  starved  at  the 
school." 

"  Dr.  Dymond  does  n't  look  as  if  he  ett  much,  anyhow," 
Dave  remarked,  with  a  chuckle. 

"  It  seems  quite  nateral  to  have  you  here  ag'in,  Johnny," 
said  the  Neighbor.  "  Dear  me  !  to  think  how  things  has 
changed  in  the  last  two  year.  Poor  Neighbor  Godfrey  !  — 
as  good  a  woman  as  ever  lived,  though  I  say  it  to  your  face, 
—  dead  and  goue,  and  you  movin'  away  to  Readin',  like  as 
not  never  to  come  back  ag'in.  Well,  you  must  n't  forgit 
your  old  neighbors,  them  that  's  always  wished  you  well. 
Out  of  sight  out  of  mind,  they  say ;  but  I  guess  it  don't  hold 
true  with  everybody,  —  leastways  not  with  me.  I  can't 
git  over  thinkin'  about  Becky  Jane  yit :  it  comes  on  to  me 


88  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

powerful  hard  sometimes.  She  'd  ha'  been  sixteen  last 
August,  if  she  'd  ha'  lived.  I  often  go  up  and  scrub  off  her 
tombstone,  and  scrape  the  rust  out  o'  the  letters." 

"  Oh,  Neighbor  Niles  ! "  I  cried,  '•  you  asked  me  once  to 
write  a  few  lines  to  put  on  the  stone.  I  '11  do  it  yet,  before 
]  leave." 

The  good  woman's  face  glowed  with  gratitude.  '•  I  11 
see  that  it  's  put  on  —  whatever  you  write,"  she  said,  "  if  it 
takes  the  vally  of  every  turkey  I  've  raised !  " 

I  kept  my  promise.  Four  lines,  containing  a  simile 
about  a  broken  flower  being  laid  beneath  this  sod,  to  bloom 
above  in  the  garden  of  God,  were  sent  to  Neighbor  Niles, 
and  whoever  takes  the  trouble  to  visit  Cross-Keys  church- 
yard will  find  them  on  Becky  Jane's  tombstone  to  this 
day. 

It  was  some  twenty  miles  to  Reading,  and  accordingly, 
on  the  day  after  the  closing  exhibition  at  the  academy,  a 
horse  and  light  vehicle,  despatched  by  my  uncle,  arrived  to 
convey  me  to  my  new  home.  Nearly  all  the  scholars  were 
leaving  for  the  autumn  vacation,  and  my  departure  lost  its 
solemnity  in  the  hurry  and  confusion  that  prevailed.  Pen- 
rose  promised  to  correspond  with  me,  and  Charley  Rand 
said,  "  Don't  be  astonished  if  you  find  me  in  Reading  next 
summer."  Mother  Dymond  gave  me  something  wrapped 
up  in  a  newspaper,  saying,  "  Take  it,  now ;  you  '11  want 
them  before  you  get  there."  "  Them "  proved  to  be  six 
'arge  and  very  hard  ginger-cakes.  My  trunk  —  an  old 
one,  which  had  once  belonged  to  my  father  —  was  tilted 
up  on  end  in  front  of  the  seat,  occasioning  much  misery 
both  to  my  legs  and  the  driver's  ;  and  so  I  left  Honey- 
brook,  the  magnificent  tin  cupola  sparkling  a  final  farewell 
as  we  dashed  up  the  "  Reading  pike." 

The  inevitable  step  having  been  taken,  —  the  fibres  I  had 
put  out  during  the  second  stage  of  my  boyhood  torn  loose, 
—  I  began  to  speculate,  with  some  curiosity,  on  the  coming 
phase  of  my  life.  I  found  this  attraction  at  least :  I  should 


•    JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  8t? 

live  in  a  much  larger  and  more  important  town  than  I  had 
ever  visited  —  a  town  with  a  river,  a  canal,  and  a  new  rail- 
road. At  the  Cross-Keys,  people  always  spoke  of  Reading 
as  being  inferior  only  to  Philadelphia,  and  one  of  the  Hon- 
eybrook  boys.  DeUveiler,  hotly  and  constantly  proclaimed 
its  glories,  to  the  discomfiture  of  Marsh,  who  was  from  Lan- 
caster. As  the  afternoon  wore  away,  and  the  long  miles 
slowly  diminished  down  the  teens,  and  then  more  slowly 
down  the  unite,  and  the  unsocial  driver  fell  asleep  every 
ten  minutes,  of  which  fact  the  horse  took  base  advantage. 
I  grew  weary  and  impatient.  My  uncle's  house  became  a 
less  unwelcome  terminus  to  the  journey. 

At  last  we  approached  some  bold  hills  —  wonderful,  as- 
tonishing mountains,  I  thought  them.  Our  road  stretched 
forward  through  a  hollow  between ;  a  scattering  village 
came  into  view,  and  a  toll-gate  barred  the  road.  The 
driver  awoke  with  a  start.  "  Here  's  Gibraltar  !  "  he  said  ; 
"  we  '11  soon  be  there,  now !  " 

••  Are  those  the  Alleghany  Mountains  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Guess  you  're  green  in  these  parts,"  said  he :  "  them 
a'n't  mountains." 

"  Well,  what  are  their  names  ?  "  I  asked  again,  in  much 
humiliation. 

"  This'n  ha'n't  no  proper  name.  — '  Penn's  Mount '  some 
call  it  T"  other,  on  the  left,  is  Neversink.  You  '11  see 
Readin'  in  two  minutes." 

We  presently  emerged  upon  a  slope,  whence  a  glorious 
landscape  opened  upon  my  eyes.  Never  had  I  seen  or 
imagined  anything  so  beautiful.  The  stately  old  town  lay- 
below,  stretched  at  full  length  on  an  inclined  plane,  rising 
from  the  Schuylkill  to  the  base  of  the  mountain  ;  the  river, 
winding  in  abrupt  curves,  disclosed  itself  here  and  there 
through  the  landscape  ;  hills  of  superb  undulation  rose  and 
fell,  in  interlinking  lines,  through  the  middle  distance, 
Scull's  Hill  boldly  detaching  itself  in  front  and  far  in  the 
north  the  Blue  Ridge  lifted  its  dim  wall  against  the  sky 


90  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

The  sinking  sun  turned  the  smokes  of  the  town  and  the 
vapors  of  the  river  to  golden  dust,  athwart  which  faintly 
gleamed  the  autumn  coloring  of  distant  woods.  The  noises 
of  the  scene  were  softened  and  mellowed,  and  above  them 
.ill,  clear,  sweet,  and  faint,  sounded  the  bugle  of  a  boatman 
on  the  canal.  It  was  not  ignorant  admiration  on  my  part 
for  one  familiar  with  the  grandest  aspects  of  Nature  must 
still  confess  that  few  towns  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  are 
so  nobly  environed. 

As  we  entered  the  place  I  could  scarcely  turn  my  head 
rapidly  enough  to  the  right  and  left,  in  my  inspection  of 
signs,  houses,  and  people.  The  brick  sidewalks  seemed  to 
be  thronged,  but  nobody  paid  any  particular  attention  to 
us.  In  Honeybrook  every  one  would  have  stopped  and 
looked  at  us,  so  long  as  we  were  in  sight.  The  driver  turned 
into  the  broad  main  avenue  of  Penn  Street,  with  its  central 
line  of  markets,  then  downward  towards  the  river,  and  drew 
up,  a  few  blocks  further,  at  a  corner.  It  was  a  low,  old- 
fashioned  brick  house,  with  a  signboard  over  the  front  door 
and  window,  upon  which  was  inscribed,  in  faded  letters. 
"A.  WOOLLEY'S  GROCERY  STORE."  There  were  boxes  of 
candles,  some  bottles,  a  rope  of  onions,  half  a  dozen  with- 
ered lemons,  and  a  few  other  articles  in  the  window  ;  a 
woman  was  issuing  from  the  door  with  a  basket  full  of 
brown  paper  parcels  on  her  arm.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
portly  window  a  narrow  door  was  squeezed  into  the  wall. 
The  driver,  having  alighted,  jerked  my  trunk  out  of  the 
wagon,  brought  it  down  with  a  crash  on  the  upper  step,  and 
rang  the  bell.  The  door  was  opened  by  Aunt  Peggy,  in 
person :  she  had  been  one  of  the  shadows  which  had  haunted 
Tiy  mother's  funeral,  and  I  therefore  recognized  her. 

My  trunk  was  brought  in  and  stood  on  end  in  the  nar- 
•ow  passage,  which  it  almost  blocked  up.  "  You  won't  want 
it  before  bedtime,  I  reckon,"  said  my  aunt ;  "  so  leave  it 
there,  and  Holty  will  help  you  carry  it  up.  Come  into  thi 
•ettin'-room." 


JOHX   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  91 

Following  her  I  found  myself  presently  in  a  small  room 
behind  the  store.  It  was  comfortably  furnished,  but  some 
what  chill  and  unfriendly  in  its  atmosphere,  —  stiff,  almost, 
although  nothing  could  have  been  less  so  than  my  aunt's 
appearance.  She  wore  a  limp  calico  dress,  of  some  dark 
pattern,  and  a  cap,  the  strings  of  which  were  untied  and 
hung  over  her  breast  Her  face  was  long  and  thin,  and  her 
hair,  many  shades  lighter  than  my  mother's,  fell  in  straight 
lank  lines  over  her  ears.  There  was  usually  a  tuft  of  H 
sticking  out  somewhere  about  the  back  of  her  neck.  Her 
eyes  were  small  and  gray,  her  nose  long  and  pointed,  and 
her  lips  thin  and  sunken  at  the  corners,  from  the  loss  of 
most  of  her  back  teeth.  Add  to  this  a  weak,  lamenting 
voice,  —  rather,  indeed,  a  whine,  —  and  it  will  readily  be 
conceived  that  my  aunt  Peggy  was  not  a  person  to  inspire 
a  young  man  with  enthusiasm  for  the  female  sex.  Never 
were  two  sisters  more  unlike  than  she  and  mother.  I  pre- 
sume there  must  have  been  a  family  likeness  somewhere, 
but  I  was  really  unable  to  discover  it. 

In  a  few  minutes  Uncle  Amos  came  in  from  the  store. 
He  shook  hands  with  me  with  more  cordiality  than  I  had 
anticipated.  "  We  '11  have  things  fixed,  in  the  course  of  i 
day  or  two,"  he  said.  "  Now,  Peggy,  I  guess  you  had  bet- 
ter get  tea  ready  :  .John  will  be  hungry,  after  his  ride.  Will 
you  come  into  the  store,  John,  and  look  around  a  little  ?  " 

I  preferred  that  to  sitting  alone  in  the  back  room.  After 
stumbling  over  some  coffee-bags,  —  for  it  was  getting  dusky, 
and  the  lamps  were  not  yet  lighted,  —  I  came  forth  into  the 
open  space  behind  the  counter,  where  a  boy  of  my  own  age 
was  very  busily  engaged  in  weighing  and  "  doing  up  "  vari- 
ous materials.  Uncle  Amos  stepped  forward  to  assist  him. 
leaving  me  to  play  the  spectator.  For  a  little  while,  both 
were  actively  employed  ;  then,  the  rush  of  custom  having 
suddenly  subsided,  my  uncle  said,  "  Here,  Bolty,  this  is  ni\ 
nephew,  John  Godfrey.  John,  this  is  my  assistant,  Boltj 
Himpel." 


92  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Bolty  grinned  and  nodded,  but  said  nothing.  He  wai 
larger  in  every  way  than  myself,  but  looked  younger.  His 
hair,  so  blond  as  to  be  almost  white,  was  cut  close  to  his 
head  ;  his  forehead  was  low,  his  eyes  large,  wide  apart,  .and 
pale  blue  ;  his  nose  short,  thick,  and  flattened  in  the  middle, 
and  his  mouth  large  and  partly  open.  He  was  of  the  pure 
peasant-blood  of  Southern  Germany,  his  name,  Bolty,  be- 
ing simply  a  contraction  of  Leopold,  with  a  little  confusion 
of  kindred  consonants.  I  was  a  good  deal  surprised  at  my 
uncle's  choice  of  an  assistant,  but  I  afterwards  found  that 
Bolty  understood  the  business,  and  nothing  else.  His 
round,  unmeaning  face  was  a  perpetual  advertisement  of 
simple  honesty  to  the  customers.  He  knew  it,  and  profited 
thereby.  Besides,  he  spoke  fluently  that  remarkable  lan- 
guage, the  Pennsylvania  German,  —  a  useful  accomplish- 
ment in  a  town  wrhere  many  native  families  were  almost 
wholly  ignorant  of  English. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  my  aunt  whined  out  of  the 
gloom  at  the  back  of  the  store,  "  Tea,  Amos  ! "  and  we 
obeyed  the  melancholy  summons.  The  table  was  set  in 
the  kitchen  behind  the  sitting-room,  and  so  near  the  stove 
that  Aunt  Peggy  could  reach  the  hot  water  with  her  right 
hand,  without  rising  from  her  chair.  The  board  looked 
very  scantily  supplied,  to  my  eyes,  accustomed  to  country 
profuseness,  but  there  proved  to  be  enough. 

After  we  were  seated,  Uncle  Amos  bent,  or  rather 
plunged  forward,  over  his  plate,  waving  his  hands  with  the 
palms  outward,  before  bringing  them  together  in  the  atti- 
tude of  prayer.  There  was  a  certain  ostentation  in  this 
gesture,  which  struck  me  at  once.  It  seemed  to  say, 
"  Take  notice,  Lord  :  I  am  about  to  ask  Thy  blessing." 
This  was  a  very  irreverent  fancy  of  mine,  I  confess  ;  but.' 
there  it  was :  I  could  n't  help  it. 

Most  people  —  as  we  find  them  —  would  have  considered 
Uncle  Amos  a  man  of  imposing  presence.  He  was  both 
tall  and  stout,  and  the  squareness  in  his  outlines,  both  of 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  9£ 

head  and  body,  suggested  a  rough,  massive  strength.  His 
head  was  bald  from  the  forehead  to  the  crown,  but  the 
side-hair  was  combed  upwards  so  as  to  overlap  and  mar- 
tially conceal  it.  His  eyes  were  hard,  and  shot  forth  a 
steely  twinkle  from  under  their  fat  lids ;  the  corners  were 
channelled  with  a  multitude  of  short,  sly  wrinkles.  The 
skin  of  his  cheeks  was  unpleasantly  threaded  here  aud 
there  by  fine,  dark-purple  veins,  and  always  had  a  gloss 
like  varnish  when  he  was  freshly  shaven.  I  half  suspect, 
now,  that  part  of  my  instinctive  dislike  to  him  arose  from 
the  jar  which  his  appearance  occasioned  to  my  sense  of 
beauty.  As  a  matter  of  conscience,  I  tried  to  like  him ; 
but  I  am  afraid  the  exertion  was  not  very  severe. 

After  tea,  I  went  back  to  the  sitting-room,  while  my 
uncle  took  Bolty's  place  and  allowed  the  latter  to  get  his 
meal  in  turn.  Then  it  was  necessary  to  wait  until  the 
store  should  be  closed  for  the  night,  and,  to  divert  the 
time.  Aunt  Peggy  brought  me  the  "  Life  of  Henry  Martyn," 
which  I  read  with  hearty  interest.  ''  A  good  model,"  said 
my  uncle,  looking  over  my  shoulder,  as  he  came  in,  after 
the  shutters  had  been  duly  fastened  and  bolted. 

"  Shut  it  up  now,"  he  continued.  "  We  go  early  to  bed, 
and  get  up  early,  in  this  house.  Bolty,  come  here,  and 
help  John  up-stairs  with  his  trunk." 

Bolty  seized  one  end  of  the  unwieldy  box,  and  we  slowly 
bumped  and  stumbled  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  into  a  large 
room  under  the  roof,  with  a  single  window  in  the  gable.  I 
remarked,  with  a  disagreeable  sensation,  that  there  wa.s 
only  one  bed,  and  that  one  not  remarkably  broad.  The 
big,  coarse  fellow  would  be  sure  to  usurp  the  most  of  it, 
and  his  broad  nose  and  open  mouth  indicated  an  immerse 
capacity  for  snoring.  Besides,  I  was  always,  from  a  very 
child,  exceedingly  sensitive  to  what  I  may  call,  for  want  of 
a  better  term,  human  electricity  ;  that  is  to  say,  certain 
persons  attract  me.  or  impart  a  sense  of  comfort,  by  theii 
physical  nearness,  while  others  repel  or  convey  an  impres 


94  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

sion  of  vague  discomfort  This  feeling  seems  to  have  n« 
connection  with  beauty  or  ugliness,  health  or  disease,  or  ever 
affection  or  enmity.  It  arises  from  some  subtle  affinity  oi 
physical  temperament,  like  that  which  we  occasionally  no- 
tice in  the  vegetable  world.  There  are  certain  plants  which 
flourish  or  droop  in  the  neighborhood  of  certain  others.  I 
think  this  delicate,  intangible  sense  is  general  among  culti- 
vated persons,  but  I  have  never  found  it  developed  to  the 
same  extent  as  in  my  own  case. 

I  could  not  justly  class  Bolty  Himpel  among  those 
strongly  repellant  natures  whose  approach  to  me  was  like 
that  of  a  poisonous  wind,  but  there  was  sufficient  of  the  feel- 
ing to  make  the  necessity  of  lying  all  night  in  his  "  atmos- 
phere "  very  distasteful.  However,  there  was  no  help  for 
it ;  he  had  already  asked  me,  — 

"  Which  side  '11  you  take  ?" 

I  chose  that  nearest  the  window,  and  soon  fell  asleep, 
wearied  with  the  changing  excitements  of  the  day.  It  was 
not  long,  apparently,  before  the  bedstead  creaked  and 
shook,  and  a  loud  voice  yelled,  "  Tumble  out !  " 

The  dawn  was  glimmering  through  the  window.  Bolty 
was  already  hauling  on  his  trousers,  and  I  rose  and  looked 
out  To  my  delight  I  could  see  the  long,  majestic  outline 
of  Penn's  Mount  above  the  houses,  its  topmost  trees  mak- 
ing a  dark  fringe  against  the  morning  sky.  The  view  be- 
came a  part  of  my  garret-furniture,  and  changed  the  aspect 
of  the  room  at  once. 

"  Boss  is  pretty  sharp,"  said  Bolty  to  me,  as  I  commenced 
dressing  ;  u  he  opens  half  an  hour  sooner  and  keeps  open 
half  an  hour  later  than  any  other  grocery  in  the  town. 
"f  a'u't  a  bad  plan.  People  get  to  know  it  and  they  come 
to  us  when  they  can't  go  nowhere  else.  It  keeps  us  on  the 
go,  though.  You  ha'n't  done  nothin'  at  business,  ha'n't 
you?" 

"  No."  I  answered  ;  "  I  've  been  at  school.  'T  was  Uncle 
Amos's  plan  tii  I  should  come  here,  and  I  don't  kncvw 
how  I  '11  like  it." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  95 

"  Oh,  \ou  '11  soon  git  the  hang  of  it.  I  don't  s'pose  he  '11 
put  yon  to  rollin'  o'  bar*ls  and  openin'  o'  boxes.  Y'  a'n't 
built  for  that." 

Whereupon  Bolty  deliberately  squeezed  and  twisted  the 
muscles  of  mj  upper  arm,  in  such  wise  that  they  were  sore 
for  the  rest  of  the  day.  -k  That 's  the  crow-bar,"  said  he. 
bending  and  stiffening  his  own  right  arm,  until  the  flexor 
rose  like  an  arch  ;  "  and  them  's  the  death-mauls."  shak' 
ing  his  clenched  fists.  These  expressions  he  had  evidently 
picked  up  from  some  canal  boatman.  Their  force  and 
fierceness  contrasted  comically  with  the  vacant  good-humor 
written  on  his  face. 

We  went  down  to  the  shop  and  opened  the  shutters. 
There  was  little  custom  before  breakfast,  so  I  lounged 
about  behind  the  counter,  pulling  open  drawers  of  spices 
and  reading  the  labels  on  bottles  and  jars.  After  all,  I 
thought,  there  are  more  disagreeable  avocations  in  the 
world  than  that  of  a  grocer,  —  bricklaying,  for  instance.  I 
determined  to  do  my  share  of  the  work  faithfully,  whether 
I  liked  it  or  not.  I  was  in  my  nineteenth  year,  and,  at  the 
worst,  would  be  my  own  master  at  twenty-one. 

Bolty  was  right  in  his  conjecture.  He  had  not  only  more 
strength  than  myself,  but  greater  mechanical  dexterity,  and 
consequently  the  heavy  work  fell  to  his  share.  My  uncle, 
finding  that  I  wrote  a  neat  hand  and  was  a  good  arithme- 
tician, gradually  initiated  me  into  the  mysteries  of  day-book 
and  ledger.  I  also  assisted  in  waiting  upon  the  customers. 
and  in  a  few  days  became  sufficiently  expert  at  sliding 
sugar  or  coffee  out  of  the  scoop,  so  as  to  turn  the  scale  by 
the  weight  of  a  grain  or  single  bean,  settling  the  contents 
in  paper  bags,  and  tying  them  squarely  and  compactly.  My 
uncle  was  too  shrewd  a  business-man  to  let  me  learn  at  the 
expense  of  customers  :  I  was  required  to  cover  the  counter 
with  packages  of  various  weights,  the  contents  of  which 
were  afterwards  returned  to  the  appropriate  bins  or  barrels. 
Thus,  while  J  was  working  off  my  awkwardness,  the  grocerj 


96  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

presented  an  air  of  unusual  patronage  to  its  innocent  vis- 
itors. 

Many  of  our  customers  were  farmers  of  the  vicinity,  who 
brought  their  eggs,  butter,  and  cheese,  to  exchange  for  gro 
ceries.  This  was  a  profitable  part  of  the  business,  as  we 
gained  both  in  buying  and  selling.  There  was  a  great  de- 
mand among  these  people  for  patent  medicines,  which 
formed  a  very  important  branch  of  my  uncle's  stock,  and 
he  could  have  found  no  better  salesman  than  Bolty  Ilimpel. 
The  latter  discovered,  in  an  incredibly  short  time,  from 
what  neighborhood  a  new  customer  came,  and  immediately 
gave  an  account  of  the  relief  which  somebody,  living  in  an 
opposite  direction,  had  derived  from  the  use  of  certain  pills 
or  plasters. 

"  Weakness  o'  the  back,  eh  ?  "  he  would  say  to  some  mel- 
ancholy-faced countrywoman  ;  "  our  Balm  of  Gilead  's  the 
stuff  for  that.  Only  three  levies  a  bottle  ;  rub  it  in  with 
flannel,  night  and  mornin'.  Mr.  Hempson — you  know 
him,  p'r'aps,  down  on  Poplar  Neck  ?  — was  bent  double 
with  the  rheumatiz,  and  two  bottles  made  him  as  straight 
as  I  am.  Better  take  some  o'  the  Peruvian  Preventative, 
while  you  're  about  it,  ma'am,  —  keeps  off  chills  and  fevers. 
Deacon  Dingey  sent  all  the  way  down  from  Port  Clinton 
t'  other  day  for  some  :  they  don't  keep  it  there.  Lives  in 
a  ma'shy  place,  right  on  to  the  river,  and  they  ha'n't  hud  a 
chill  in  the  family  since  they  use  'em.  I  reckon  we  've 
sold  wheelbarra  loads." 

I  noticed,  in  the  course  of  time,  that  Uncle  Amos  never 
interfered  with  Bolty's  loquacity,  unless  (which  happened 
very  rarely)  his  recommendation  was  overdone  and  the  cus- 
tomer became  suspicious.  Sometimes,  indeed,  he  said,  with 
a  gravity  not  wholly  natural,  "  Rather  too  strong.  Don't 
tell  more  than  you  know." 

"  Oh."  Bolty  would  answer,  "  't  won't  kill  if  it  don't  cure." 

This  youth  had  an  astonishing  memory  of  names  and 
faces,  —  a  faculty  in  which,  probably  from  want  of  practice 


JOHN   GODFREY'S    FORTUNES.  97 

I  was  deficient.  His  German  also  made  him  indispensa- 
ble to  many  of  the  country  people.  My  uncle  possessed  a 
tolerable  smattering  of  the  language,  and  insisted  that  I 
should  endeavor  to  learn  it.  "  It 's  more  use  than  the  hea- 
thenish Latin  you  learned  in  school,"  said  he. 

"  Why,  Uncle  Amos,"  I  retorted,  "  I  read  Sacred  His- 
tory in  Latin." 

"  Then  it  was  n't  the  Word  of  God,  which  was  inspired 
in  Hebrew,"  he  answered. 

I  had  determined  to  go  on  alone  with  my  Latin  studies, 
and  his  disapprobation  of  the  language  troubled  me.  I 
could  not,  as  I  proposed,  bring  the  books  down  to  the  desk 
behind  the  counter,  and  devote  the  end  of  the  evening  to 
them,  without  incurring  his  pious  censure.  Against  Ger- 
man he  would  have  no  such  scruples,  and  I  decided,  though 
with  regret,  to  take  that  language  instead.  I  remembered 
that  Grandfather  Hatzfeld,  who  had  been  educated  in 
Bethlehem,  spoke  it  habitually,  and  that  my  mother .  re- 
tained her  knowledge  of  it  to  the  last.  Among  her  books 
was  an  old  edition  of  Herder  and  Liebeskind's  "  Palmblat- 
ter."  which  she  had  often  read  to  me,  as  a  child,  and  I  had 
then  understood.  This  early  knowledge,  however,  had  long 
since  faded  to  a  blank,  but  it  left  the  desire  to  be  renewed 
and  perhaps  unconsciously  smoothed  the  first  difficulties  of 
the  study. 

I  saw  little  of  Aunt  Peggy,  except  at  meals  and  on  Sun- 
days. Having  never  had  any  children  of  her  own,  she 
would  scarcely  have  been  able  to  assume  a  motherly  atti- 
tude towards  me  ;  but  I  do  not  think  she  tried.  Her  share 
in  the  conversation  was  generally  of  a  discouraging  cast, 
and  the  subject  which  most  seemed  to  excite  her  interest 
was  a  case  of  backsliding  which  had  recently  occurred  in 
my  uncle's  church  For  several  days  the  latter  added  to 
his  tri-daily  grace  a  prayer  "  that  them  which  have  forsaken 
the  light  may  be  brought  back  to  it,  and  that  them  which 
wander  in  darkness  may  be  led  to  seek  it ! "  He  was  tin- 
7 


98  JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES- 

doubtedly  sincere  in  this  prayer,  and  I  could  have  joined 
in  it,  had  I  not  been  suspicious  enough  to  guess  that  the 
latter  clause  must  be  aimed  at  myself. 

On  Sundays,  Bolty  and  I  went  twice  to  church  with  my 
ancle  and  aunt,  dutifully  joining  in  the  hymns,  as  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  do  with  my  mother.  I  declined  taking 
a  class  in  the  Sunday-school,  much  to  my  uncle's  displeas- 
ure ;  but,  after  being  confined  to  the  store  all  the  week,  I 
felt  an  urgent  craving  for  a  mouthful  of  fresh  air  and  the 
freedom  of  the  landscape.  Sometimes  I  climbed  high  up 
the  sides  of  Mount  Penn,  whence  the  brown  tints  of  the 
coming  winter  vanished  far  off  in  delicious  blue  ;  but  more 
frequently  I  walked  northward  to  the  knoll  now  covered 
by  the  Cemetery,  and  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a  wide  look- 
out on  all  sides.  In  the  evening,  Bolty  was  allowed  to  visit 
his  father,  an  honest,  hard-working  shoemaker,  living  on 
the  eastern  edge  of  the  town,  and  I  occasionally  accompa- 
nied him.  The  family  conversation  was  entirely  in  Ger- 
man, so  that  these  visits  were  not  much  of  a  recreation, 
after  all. 

I  soon  saw  that  the  literary  performances  which  had 
been  my  pride  and  delight  at  school  must  be  given  up.  at 
least  for  the  winter.  There  was  no  fire  in  the  garret  bed- 
room, and  I  was  not  likely  to  be  left  in  possession  of  the 
sitting- roon.  behind  the  store  more  than  once  a  month. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  &S 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DESCRIBING    CERTAIN   INCIDENTS  OF  MY  LIFE   IN  REAIHNO 

THE  winter,  having  fairly  set  in,  dragged  on  its  monoto- 
nous round.  During  the  cold  weather  there  was  less  to 
do  in  the  store,  and  I  had  frequent  hours  of  leisure,  which  I 
passcxl  on  my  high  stool  at  the  desk,  reading  such  books  as 
I  could  procure,  and  a  few  which  I  bought.  The  sale  of 
the  cottage  and  furniture  left  a  surplus  of  sixty-seven  dol- 
lars, after  paying  the  expenses  of  my  mother's  funeral  and 
my  lust  term  at  Dr.  Dvmond's.  On  making  this  statement, 
as  my  guardian,  my  uncle  said,  — 

"  You  don't  need  any  more  clothes  this  winter,  and  you  'd 
better  let  me  put  this  out  for  you.  You'll  have  no  ex- 
penses here,  as  I  count  that  what  you  do  in  the  store  will 
about  balance  your  board." 

I  greatly  longed  to  have  the  whole  sum  in  my  hands,  but 
offered  to  let  him  "  put  out "  fifty  dollars  and  give  me  the 
remainder.  He  consented,  though  with  an  ill  grace,  say- 
ing, "  It  is  n't  good  to  give  boys  the  means  of  temptation.'' 

I  had  never  before  had  one  tenth  part  as  much  money 
in  my  pocket,  and  it  gave  me  a  wonderfully  comfortable 
feeling  of  wealth  and  independence.  My  first  step  was  to 
buy  an  octavo  volume,  containing  the  poems  of  Milton, 
Young.  Gray,  Beattie,  and  Collins,  every  word  of  which  I 
faithfully  read.  (I  wonder  whether  anybody  else  ever  did 
the  same  thing.)  I  also  purchased  a  blank  diary,  with 
headings  for  every  day  in  the  year,  and  kept  it  in  the  breast- 
pocket of  my  coat,  with  fear  and  trembling  lest  it  should 
be  left  lying  where  my  uncle  miVht  find  and  read  it.  For 


(00  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

a  month  or  two  the  entries  were  very  regular,  then  more 
and  more  fragmentary,  and  before  summer  they  ceased 
altogether.  The  little  volume,  with  its  well-worn  cover 
and  embrowned  paper,  is  now  lying  before  me.  I  turn  its 
pages  with  a  smile  at  its  extravagant  sentiment  and  imma- 
ture reflections.  Can  it  be  that  I  really  wrote  such  stuff 
as  this  ?  — 

"  Jan.  28.  —  Cold  and  cloudy  —  emblematic  of  my  life, 
hi  the  afternoon,  gleams  of  sunshine,  flashing  like  the 
wings  of  angels.  Would  I  too  could  sour  above  these  sub- 
lunary cares  !  Read  '  Childe  Harold  '  while  uncle  was 
out  Is  it  wrong  to  steal  one's  intellectual  food  ?  No ;  the 
famishinff\soul  must  have  nourishment!" 

As  I  became  familiar  with  the  routine  of  my  duties,  and 
Uncle  Amos  found  that  the  accounts  could  be  safely  in- 
trusted to  my  care,  he  frequently  left  the  store  to  Bolty 
and  myself,  and  made  short  trips  into  the  country  for  the 
purpose  of  procuring  supplies  and  perfecting  his  system  of 
exchange.  In  this  way  he  snapped  up  many  a  pound  of 
butter  and  dozen  of  eggs,  which  wo'uld  have  found  their 
way  to  other  groceries ;  and  during  the  season  when  those 
articles  were  rather  scarce  he  was  always  well  supplied,  — 
a  fact  which  soon  became  known  and  brought  a  notable 
increase  of  custom.  He  also  went  to  Philadelphia,  to  make 
his  purchases  of  the  wholesale  dealers  in  person,  instead 
of  ordering  them  by  letter.  We,  of  course,  felt  a  greater 
responsibility  during  his  absence,  and  were  very  closely 
confined  to  our  duties.  Bolty  had  no  other  ambition  than 
to  set  up  in  business  for  himself,  some  clay  ;  it  was  an  aim 
he  never  lost  sight  of,  and  I  was  sure  he  would  reach  it 
For  my  part,  having  been  forced  into  my  present  position, 
I  longed  for  the  coming  of  the  day  which  would  release 
me,  but  I  was  too  conscientious  either  to  break  loose  from 
it  or  to  slight  my  share  of  the  labor. 

About  the  beginning  of  April,  either  from  the  close  con- 
finement within-doors  to  which  I  had  been  subjected,  or  to 


JOHN    GODFREY'S    FOiriTNT.S.  10i 

BOnie  change  in  my  system.  —  for  I  was  still  growing,  and 
had  now  attained  the  average  height  of  men,  —  I  was  at- 
tacked with  fever.  The  malady  was  not  severe  nor  dan- 
gerous, but  stubborn ;  and  though,  after  a  week's  confine- 
ment to  the  spare  bedroom  on  the  second  story,  I  was  able 
to  sit  up  and  move  about  again,  the  physician  prescribed 
rest  for  a  fortnight  longer,  with  moderate  exercise  when 
the  weather  was  fine.  Aunt  Peggy  waited  upon  me  as  well 
as  she  was  able  :  that  is,  when  her  household  duties  had 
been  performed,  she  brought  her  knitting  and  sat  by  the 
stove  at  the  foot  of  my  bed,  asking  occasionally,  in  a  tear- 
ful voice,  "  How  do  you  feel,  John  ?  "  Fortunately,  I  re- 
quired no  watching  at  night,  for  there  was  no  element  of 
tenderness  in  the  house  to  make  it  endurable.  My  uncle 
took  my  place  in  the  store,  though  it  must  have  been  a  seri- 
ous interruption  to  his  outside  plans.  He  acquiesced,  with- 
out apparent  impatience,  in  the  doctor's  prescription  of 
further  rest 

During  those  days  of  convalescence  I  experienced  a 
delicious  relief  and  lightness  of  heart  Spring  had  burst 
suddenly  upon  the  Jand  with  a  balmy  brightness  and 
warmth  which  lingered,  day  after  day,  belying  the  fickle 
fame  of  the  month.  Walking  down  Penn  Street  and  cross- 
ing the  bridge,  I  would  find  a  sunny  seat  on  the  top  of  the 
gray  cliff  beyond,  and  bask  in  the  soft  awakening  of  the 
landscape  around.  The  bluebird  sang  like  the  voice  of 
the  season ;  below  me,  in  gardens  and  fields,  I  saw  how  the 
dark  brown  of  the  mellow  earth  increased  for  the  planting, 
and  how  sheets  or  cloudy  wafts  of  green  settled  over  the 
barrenness  of  winter.  Again  I  became  hopeful,  joyous, 
confident  of  the  future.  Time  and  the  tenderness  of  mem- 
ory had  softened  my  grief:  I  often  recalled  mother's  words 
on  her  death-bed,  and  allowed  no  unavailing  sting  of  re- 
morse for  neglected  duties  to  cloud  the  serenity  of  my  resig- 
nation. It  was  thus,  I  felt,  that  she  would  have  me  to  feel 
and  her  sainted  spirit  must  rejoice  in  the  returning  buoy- 
ancy of  mine. 


102  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

On  one  of  those  lovely  April  afternoons,  as  I  was  musing 
on  the  cliff,  —  my  thoughts  taking  a  vague,  wandering 
rhythm  from  the  sound  of  a  boatman's  horn  down  the 
river,  —  the  idea  of  writing  something  for  publication  came 
into  my  mind.  A  poem,  of  course,  —  for  "  Childe  Harold," 
"  Manfred,"  and  "  The  Corsair  "  had  turned  the  whole  drift 
vf  my  ideas  into  a  channel  of  imagined  song.  To  write 
some  verses  and  have  them  printed  would  be  joy  —  triumph 
—  glory.  The  idea  took  possession  of  me  with  irresistible 
force.  Two  dollars  out  of  my  seventeen  had  gone  for  a 
subscription  to  the  Saturday  Evening  Post,  —  an  expense 
at  which  Uncle  Amos  had  grumbled,  until  he  found  that 
Aunt  Peggy  took  stealthy  delight  in  perusing  the  paper. 
In  its  columns  I  found  charming  poetry  by  Bessie  Bulfinch 
and  Adeliza  Choate,  besides  republications  from  contempo- 
rary English  literature,  especially  Dickens.  B.  Simmons. 
T.  K.  Hervey,  and  Charles  Swain  became,  for  me,  demi- 
gods of  song :  I  could  only  conceive  of  them  as  superior 
beings,  of  lofty  stature  and  majestic  beauty.  I  had  never 
seen  a  man  who  had  written  a  book.  Even  the  editors 
of  the  Gazette  and  Adler,  in  Reading,  were  personages 
whose  acquaintance  I  did  not  dare  to  seek.  There  was 
always  a  half-column  in  the  Post,  addressed  "To  Cor- 
respondents," containing  such  messages  as,  — "  Ivanhoe's 
story  contains  some  sweet  passages,  but  lacks  incident :  de- 
clined with  thanks ; "  or,  "  The  '  Fairy's  Bower.'  by  '  Ce- 
cilia,' is  a  poem  of  much  promise,  and  will  appear  next 
week."  I  invariably  read  the  articles  thus  accepted,  and, 
while  I  recognized  their  great  merit,  (for  were  they  not 
printed  ?)  it  seemed  to  me  that,  by  much  exertion.  I  might 
one  day  achieve  the  right  to  appear  in  their  ranks. 

After  having  given  hospitality  to  the  idea,  I  carried  pen- 
cil and  paper  with  me,  and  devoted  several  afternoons  to 
the  poem.  It  was  entitled.  "  The  Unknown  Bard  "  (mean- 
ing myself,  of  course),  written  in  heroic  lines,  after  I  had 
vainly  attempted  the  Spenserian  stanza.  As  nearly  as  I 


.<JHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  10S 

^an  .ecoliect,  there  were  fifty  or  sixty  lines  of  it.  describing 
my  intellectual  isolation,  and  how  I  must  stifle  the  burning 
thoughts  that  filled  my  bosom,  lest  the  cold  world  should 
crush  me  with  its  envenomed  scorn  !  I  signed  myself 
"  Selim,"  a  name  which  I  found  in  Collins's  First  Eclogue, 
and  particularly  admired.  How  I  used  to  wish  that  some 
<rood  genius  had  inspired  my  mother  to  give  me  the  name 
of  "  Selim,"  or  "  Secander,"  instead  of  "  John  "  !  However, 
as  "  Selim  "  I  would  be  known  in  the  world  of  letters  and 
on  the  tablets  of  fame  —  Selim,  the  Unknown  Bard  ! 

Finished,  at  last,  and  copied  in  my  distinctest  hand,  there 
came  the  question  —  how  should  I  send  it  ?  The  clerk  at 
the  post-office  knew  me,  because  I  went  there  for  my  un- 
cle's letters,  and  also,  weekly,  for  my  beloved  newspaper. 
Perhaps  he  also  read  the  paper,  and  would  be  sure  to  find 
a  connection  between  my  letter  and  the  editorial  answer  to 
Selim  of  Reading.  Not  for  the  world  would  I  have  in- 
trusted the  awful  secret  to  a  single  soul,  —  not  even  to  Pen- 
rose  or  Bob  Simmons.  Perhaps  1  should  still  have  run 
the  risk,  as  I  fancied  it  to  be,  of  using  the  post,  bi  *.  for  a 
most  lucky  and  unexpected  chance.  Uncle  Amos  sug 
gested  that  I  should  go  to  Philadelphia  in  his  stead,  on 
some  business  relating  to  sugar,  with  the  details  of  which  I 
was  acquainted.  I  was  almost  too  demonstrative  in  my 
delight ;  for  my  suspicious  uncle  shook  his  head,  and  made 
it  a  condition  that  I  should  go  down  in  the  morning-train, 
accomplish  my  mission  at  once,  and  return  the  same  even- 
ing. 

On  reaching  the  right-angled  city.  I  found  my  way  with 
little  difficulty  to  "  Simpson  &  Brother,"  Market  Street, 
near  Second,  and,  after  very  faithfully  transacting  the  busi- 
ness, had  still  two  hours  to  spare  before  the  departure  of 
the  return-train.  The  newspaper  office  was  near  at  hand. 
—  Chestnut,  above  Third,  —  and  thither  I  repaired,  with 
flushed  face  and  beating  heart,  the  precious  epistle  held 
fast  in  mj  hand,  yet  carefully  concealed  under  my  sleeve 


104  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

lest  any  one,  in  passing  by,  should  read  the  siiperscriptiot 
and  guess  the  contents.  I  do  not  smile  at  myself,  as  I  re 
call  this  experience.  The  brain,  like  the  heart,  has  its  vir 
nnnity,  and  its  first  earnest  utterance  is  often  as  tremulouslv 
shy  as  the  first  confession  of  love. 

My  intention  had  been  to  deliver  the  letter  at  the  office 
of  the  paper,  as  if  I  had  been  simply  its  bearer  and  not  its 
author.  But  after  I  had  mounted  two  dark,  steep  flights 
of  steps,  and  found  myself  before  the  door,  my  courage 
failed  me.  I  heard  voices  within  :  there  were  several  per- 
sons, then.  They  would  be  certain  to  look  at  me  sharply 

—  to  notice  my  agitation  —  perhaps  to  question  me  about 
the  letter.     While  I  was  standing  thus,  twisting  and  turn- 
ing it  in  my  hand,  in  a  veritable  perspiration  from  excite- 
ment, I  heard  footsteps  descending  from  an  upper  story. 
Desperate  and  panic-stricken,  I  laid  the  letter  hastily  on 
the  floor,  at  the  door  of  the  office,  and  rushed  down  to  the 
street  as  rapidly  and  silently  as  possible.     Without  looking 
around,  I  walked  up  Chestnut  Street  with  a  fearful  impres- 
sion that  somebody  was  following  me,  and  turning  the  cor- 
ner of  Fourth,  began  to  read  the  titles  of  the  books  in 
Hart's  window.     Five  minutes  having  elapsed,  I  knew  that 
I  was  not  discovered,  and  recovered  my  composure  ;  though, 
now  that  the  poem  had  gone  out  of  my  hands,  I  would 
have  given  anything  to  get  it  back  again. 

When  the  next  number  of  the  paper  arrived,  I  tore  off 
the  wrapper  with  trembling  fingers  and  turned  to  the  fate- 
ful column  on  the  second  page.  But  I  might  as  well  have 
postponed  my  excitement :  there  was  no  notice  of  the  poem. 
Perhaps  they  never  received  the  letter,  —  perhaps  it  had 
been  trodden  upon  and  defaced,  and  swept  down-stairs  by 
the  office-boy  !  These  were,  at  least,  consoling  possibilities, 

—  better  that  than  to  be  contemptuously  ignored.     By  the 
following  week  my  fever  was  nearly  over,  and  I  opened  the 
paper  with  but  a  faint  expectation  of  finding  anything ;  but 
lo  !  there  it  was,  —  "  Selim  "  at  the  very  head  of  the  an 


JOHN"  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  lOc 

oouncements  !  These  were  the  precious  words  :  '  vV^e  are 
obliged  to  •  Selim '  for  his  poem,  which  we  shall  publish 
shortly.  It  shows  the  hand  of  youth,  but  evinces  a  flatter- 
ing promise.  Let  him  trim  the  midnight  lamp  with  dili- 
gence." 

If  the  sinking  sun  had  wheeled  about  and  gone  up  the 
western  sky,  or  the  budding  trees  had  snapped  into  full  leaf 
in  five  minutes,  I  don't  believe  it  would  have  astonished 
me.  I  was  on  my  way  home  from  the  post-office  when  I  read 
the  lines,  and  I  remember  turning  out  of  Penn  Street  to  gc 
by  a  more  secluded  and  circuitous  way,  lest  I  should  be 
tempted  to  cut  a  pigeon-wing  on  the  pavement,  in  the  sight 
of  the  multitude.  I  passed  a  little  brick  building,  with  a  tin 
sign  on  the  shutter,  — "  D.  J.  Mulford,  Attorney-at-Law." 
"  Pooh  !  "  I  said  to  myself;  "  what 's  D.  J.  Mulford  ?  He 
never  published  a  poem  in  his  life  !  "  As  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  head,  silhouetted  against  the  back  window, 
I  found  myself,  nevertheless,  rather  inclined  to  pity  him  for 
being  unconscious  that  the  author  of ''  The  Unknown  Bard" 
was  at  that  moment  passing  his  door. 

This  disproportionate  exultation,  the  reader  will  say,  be- 
trayed shallow  waters.  Why  should  I  not  admit  the  fact  ? 

My  mind  was  exceedingly  shallow,  at  that  time,  but, 
thank  I  leaven  !  it  was  limpid  as  a  mountain  brook.  It 
could  have  floated  no  craft  heavier  than  a  child's  toy-sloop, 
but  the  sun  struck  through  it  and  filled  its  bed  with  light. 
If  it  is  expected  that  we  should  feel  ashamed  of  our  intel 
lectual  follies,  we  must  needs  regret  that  we  were  ever  voting. 

When  the  poem  at  last  appeared,  after  a  miserably  weary 
interval  of  two  or  three  weeks,  I  was  a  little  mortified  to 
find  that  some  liberty  had  been  taken  with  the  language 
WTiere  I  had  written  ••  hath  "  I  found  "  has  "  substituted 
and.  what  was  worse.  "  Fame's  eternal  brow."  which  I  thought 
so  grand,  was  changed  into  "  Fame's  resplendent  brow." 
The  poem  did  n't  seem  quite  mine,  with  these  alterations 
they  look  the  keen  edge  off  my  pride  and  my  happiness 


1 06  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

However,  Selim  was  at  last  the  companion,  if  not  the  equal, 
of  Bessie  Bulfinch  and  Adeliza  Choate,  —  that  was  a  greal 
point  gained.  I  determined  that  he  should  not  relapse  intc 
silence. 

My  next  essay  was  a  tale,  called  "  Envy  ;  or,  the  Maiden 
of  Ravenna."  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  placed  the  city 
upon  the  summit  of  a  frightful  precipice,  the  base  of  which 
was  washed  by  the  river  Arno  !  Laurelia,  the  maiden  of 
the  story,  fell  from  the  awful  steep,  but  fortunately  alighted 
on  the  branch  of  a  weeping  willow,  which  gently  transferred 
her  to  the  water,  whence  she  was  rescued  by  the  Knight 
Grimaldi.  But  this  story  proved  too  much  even  for  the 
kindly  editor,  whose  refusal  was  so  gentle  and  courteous 
that  it  neither  wounded  my  pride  nor  checked  my  ambi- 
tion. 

One  day  in  early  summer  I  happened  to  pass  again  by 
the  office  of  D.  J.  Mulford.  I  glanced  at  the  sign  me- 
chanically, and  was  going  on,  when  a  terrible  thumping  on 
the  window-panes  startled  and  arrested  me.  I  stopped  :  the 
window  was  suddenly  raised,  and  who  but  Charley  Rand 
poked  his  head  out ! 

"  I  say,  Godfrey  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  come  in  here  a  minute  ! 
Mulford  's  out,  and  I  have  the  office  to  myself." 

"  Why,  Rand,"  said  I,  as  he  opened  the  door  for  me, 
"  how  did  you  get  here  ?  " 

"  Sit  down,  and  [  '11  tell  you  all  about  it.  Father  said, 
you  know,  that  I  might  be  a  lawyer,  if  I  had  a  mind.  Well, 
this  spring,  when  he  found  I  had  Latin  enough  to  tell  him 
what  posse  comitatus  meant,  and  scire  facias,  and  venditioni 
exponas,  and  so  on,  —  such  as  you  see  in  the  sheriff's  adver- 
tisements, —  he  thought  I  was  ready  to  begin  the  study.  I 
had  no  objections,  for  I  knew  that  the  school  would  be  dull, 
with  Penrpse,  Marsh,  Brotherton,  and  most  of  the  older 
boys  gone,  and,  besides,  it 's  time  I  was  seeing  a  little  more 
life.  Many  fellows  set  up  in  business  for  themselves  at  my 
age.  Mulford  's  father's  lawyer,  whenever  he  's  obliged  to 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  107 

have  one ;  I  suppose  he  '11  be  my  first  client  after  1  pass 
I  've  been  here  ten  days,  and  was  just  thinking  I  must  find 
you  out,  when  I  saw  you  go  by  the  window.  Have  a  cigar  ?  ' 

I  declined  the  offer,  and  politely,  considering  my  abhor 
rence  of  the  custom. 

"  You  've  grown,  Godfrey,"  Rand  continued,  hauling  a 
second  chair  towards  him  and  hoisting  his  feet  upon  the 
arms.  "•  and  I  see  you  're  getting  some  fuzz  on  your  chin. 
You  '11  be  a  man  soon,  and  I  should  n't  wonder  if  you  \\ 
make  your  murk  some  day." 

I  overlooked  the  patronizing  manner  of  this  remark  in  its 
agreeable  substance.  And  here  I  should  explain  that  Char- 
ley Rand  was  now  by  no  means  the  same  youth  as  on  the  da)' 
when  we  were  together  intrusted  to  Dr.  Dymond's  care. 
Until  then  he  had  been  petted  and  humored  in  every  pos- 
sible way,  and  was  selfish  and  overbearing  in  his  manner. 
A  few  months  among  forty  or  fifty  boys,  however,  taught 
him  to  moderate  his  claims.  He  was  brought  down  to  the 
common  level,  and  with  that  flexibility  of  nature  which  was 
his  peculiar  talent,  or  faculty,  leaped  over  to  the  opposite 
extreme  of  smooth-tongued  subservience.  What  he  had 
ceased  to  gain  by  impudence,  he  now  endeavored  to  obtain 
by  coaxing,  flattering,  and  wheedling.  In  the  latter  art  he 
soon  became  an  adept.  Many  a  time  have  I  worked  out 
for  him  some  knotty  problem,  in  violation  of  the  rules  of 
the  school,  and  in  violation,  also,  of  my  own  sense  of  right, 
cajoled  by  his  soft,  admiring,  affectionate  accents.  I  do  not 
describe  his  character  as  I  understood  it  then,  but  as  I 
afterwards  learned  it  I  was  still  his  dupe. 

In  the  space  of  half  an  hour  he  managed  to  extract  from 
me  the  particulars  of  my  life  and  occupation  in  Reading. 
He  already  knew,  in  ten  days,  much  more  about  the  prin- 
cipal families  of  the  place  than  I  had  learned  in  eight 
months.  After  this  interview,  I  soon  got  the  habit  of  walk- 
ing around  to  Mul ford's  office  on  Sunday  afternoons  and 
spending  an  hour  or  two  with  him.  We  sat  in  the  back 


108  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

room,  which  opened  on  a  little  yard  covered  with  weeds 
boards,  and  broken  bottles,  so  that  the  proprieties  of  the 
street-side  of  the  building  were  carefully  respected.  I 
felt  less  lonely,  now  that  there  was  a  schoolmate  within 
hail. 

In  my  uncle's  house  things  went  on  very  much  as  usual 
Bolty  and  I  had  scarcely  any  taste  in  common,  (unless  it 
was  a  fondness  for  pea-nuts,  which  I  retain  to  this  clay.) 
but  we  never  quarrelled.  As  we  were  strictly  attentive  to 
our  respective  duties,  my  uncle  seemed  to  be  satisfied  with 
us,  and  was,  for  this  reason  perhaps,  forbearing  in  other 
respects.  Aunt  Peggy  adhered  to  her  monotonous  house- 
hold round,  and  made  no  attempt  to  control  my  actions, 
except  when  I  bought  white  linen  instead  of  nankeen,  for 
summer  wear.  ''  There  '11  be  no  end  to  the  washin'  of  it," 
she  said,  in  a  voice  so  suggestive  of  tears  that  I  expected 
to  see  her  take  out  her  handkerchief. 

It  was  plain  to  me  that  Uncle  Amos  intended  to  enlarge 
his  business  as  rapidly  as  was  consistent  with  his  prudent 
and  cautious  habits.  I  had  good  reason  to  believe  that  my 
services  were  included  in  his  pians  ;  vet  though  I  was 

j.  '        *j  O 

more  firmly  fixed  than  ever  in  my  determination  to  leave 
when  his  legal  guardianship  should  cease,  I  judged  it  best 
to  be  silent  on  this  point  It  would  only  lead  to  tedious 
sermons,  —  discussions  in  which  neither  could  have  the 
least  sympathy  with  the  other's  views,  and  possibly  a  per- 
manent and  very  disagreeable  disturbance  in  our  relations 
towards  each  other-  I  do  not  think  he  recognized,  as  I 
did,  that  I  had  quietly  established  an  armistice,  which  I 
could  at  any  time  annul. 

In  one  sense,  Bolty  was  my  aid.  He  never  mentioned 
the  subject  but  I  understood  then  as  well  as  I  do  now  that 
he  knew  my  want  of  liking  for  the  business,  and  was  satis 
fied  that  it  should  be  so.  After  the  weather  grew  warm 
enough,  I  resumed  my  Latin  studies  in  the  garret ;  thither 
also  I  took  prohibited  books,  and  filled  quires  of  paper  with 


JOHN   GODFREY'S    FORTUNES.  109 

extracts  and  comments,  feeling,  instinctively,  that  my  com- 
panion would  never  betray  me. 

This  sort  of  life  was  not  what  I  would  have  chosen.  It 
was  far  from  satisfying  the  cravings  of  heart  and  brain  • 
but  I  bore  it  with  patience,  looking  forward  to  the  day  of 
release- 


110  .IUHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES- 


CHAPTER  IX. 

1M  WHICH  I  OUGHT  TO  BE  A  SHEEP,  BUT  PROVE  TO  Bl 
A  GOAT. 

THERE  was  one  point  upon  which  I  was  always  appre- 
hensive that  Uncle  Amos  would  assail  me.  It  dated  from 
that  first  evening  in  the  little  cottage  at  the  Cross- Keys 
the  previous  summer.  What  I  have  said  of  my  shrinking 
delicacy  of  feeling  with  regard  to  my  poetic  attempts  will 
equally  apply  to  the  religious  sentiment.  A  dear  and  ten- 
der friend  might  have  found  me  willing  to  open  my  heart 
to  him  concerning  sacred  things ;  but  I  could  not,  dared 
not,  admit  a  less  privileged  person  to  the  sanctuary.  I  had 
not  the  courage  or  the  independence  necessary  to  arrest 
my  uncle's  approach  to  the  subject,  and  was  therefore  pre- 
ternaturally  watchful  and  alert  in  retreating.  Very  often. 
I  suspect,  I  fancied  an  ambush  where  none  existed.  My 
uncle  probably  saw  that- he  must  tread  cautiously,  and  feel 
his  way  by  degrees,  for  I  only  remember  one  conversation 
in  the  course  of  the  summer  which  really  disturbed  me. 

My  poor  mother  had  been  an  earnest  Lutheran,  of  the 
hearty,  cheerful,  warm-blooded  German  sort.  She  always 
preferred  thanksgiving  for  God's  mercies  to  fear  of  His 
wrath,  and  had  brought  me  up  in  the  faith  that  the  beauties 
and  blessings  of  this  life  might  be  enjoyed  without  forfeit- 
ing one's  title  as  a  Christian.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  I 
had  been  confirmed,  and  was  therefore  to  be  considered  as 
a  member  of  the  Church.  At  least,  I  supposed  that  the 
principal  religious  duty  thenceforth  required  of  me  was  to 
follow  God's  commandments  as  nearly  as  my  imperfect 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  Ill 

human  nature  would  allow.  I  never  closed  my  eyes  in 
sleep  without  invoking  the  protection  of  my  only  Father, 
with  a  grateful  feeling  in  my  heart  of  hearts  that  He  did 
indeed  hear  and  heed  me.  I  did  not  fear  damnation 
because  I  had  nt)t  the  slightest  liking  for  the  Devil. 

I  knew  little  or  nothing  of  the  slight  partitions  which 
divide  the  multitudinous  sects  of  the  Christian  world,  and 
was  not  the  least  troubled  in  conscience  at  attending  my 
uncle's  church  instead  of  my  own.  Whatever  was  doc- 
trinal 'n  the  latter  I  had  forgotten  since  my  confirmation, 
—  probably  because  it  had  then  made  very  little  impres- 
sion on  my  mind.  My  uncle's  clergyman  was  a  mild,  ami- 
able man,  whose  goodness  it  was  impossible  to  doubt,  and  I 
listened  to  his  sermons  with  proper  reverence. 

Something,  I  know  not  what,  —  possibly  some  memory 
of  my  mother,  —  led  me,  one  Sunday  in  summer,  to  attend 
the  Lutheran  church.  The  well-known  hymns  fell  on  my 
ear  with  a  home-like  sound,  and  the  powerful  tones  of  the 
organ  seemed  to  lift  me  to  new  devotional  heights.  In  the 
sermon  I  felt  the  influence  of  a  strong,  massive  intellect, 
the  movements  of  which  I  could  not  always  follow,  but 
which  stimulated  and  strengthened  me.  After  this,  I 
divided  my  Sundays  nearly  equally  between  the  two 
churches.  On  informing  my  uncle  and  aunt,  at  dinner, 
where  I  had  been,  the  former  was  at  first  silent ;  but,  after 
some  grave  reflection,  asked  me,  — 

"  Are  you  a  member  of  that  persuasion  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  answered,  "just  the  same  as  mother  and 
Aunt  Peggy." 

I  struck  a  blow  without  intending  it  Aunt  Peggy 
looked  startled  and  uneasy ;  a  strong  color  came  into  her 
face  ;  then,  after  a  quick  glance  at  uncle,  she  lifted  her 
hands  and  exclaimed,  "  No  !  Praise  and  Glory,  not  now ! " 

"  Hem  !  "  coughed  Uncle  Amos  ;  "  never  mind,  Peggy ; 
blessed  are  them  that  see !  "  Then,  turning  to  me,  he 
added,  "  Do  you  mean  that  you  have  professed  faith  and 
been  baptized  ?  " 


I  1 2  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

u  I  was  baptized  when  I  was  a  baby,"  I  answered,  "  ana 
confirmed  when  I  was  fourteen." 

"  Have  you  experienced  a  change  of  heart  ?  '* 

"No,"  I  boldly  said,  thinking  that  he  meant  to  indicate 
infidelity,  or  some  kind  of  backsliding,  by  this  term. 

Uncle  Amos,  to  my  surprise,  uttered  a  loud  groan,  and 
Aunt  Peggy  made  that  peculiar  clucking  noise  with  her 
tongue  against  her  teeth,  which  some  women  employ  to 
signify  disaster  or  lamentation. 

"  You  feel,  then,"  said  Uncle  Amos,  after  a  long  pause, 
"  that  your  nature  is  utterly  corrupt  and  sinful.  Do  you 
not  see  what  a  mockery  it  is  to  claim  that  you  are  a  fol- 
lower of  the  Lamb  ?  " 

"  No,  uncle  !  "  I  cried,  indignantly  ;  "  I  am  not  corrupt 
and  sinful.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  saint  but  no  one  has  a 
right  to  call  me  a  sinner.  I  have  kept  all  the  command- 
ments, except  the  tenth,  and  I  never  broke  that  without 
repenting  of  it  afterwards.  Mother  belonged  to  the  Lu- 
theran Church,  and  I  won't  hear  anything  said  against 
it!" 

For  a  moment  an  equally  earnest  reply  seemed  to  be 
hovering  on  my  uncle's  tongue ;  but  he  checked  himself 
with  a  strong  effort,  groaned  in  a  subdued  way.  and  re- 
marked with  unusual  gravity,  "  Darkness !  darkness !  "  His 
manner  towards  me,  for  a  day  or  two  afterwards,  was  unu- 
sually solemn.  The  exigencies  of  business,  however,  soon 
restored  our  ordinary  relations. 

In  the  autumn,  my  uncle's  church  was  visited  by  a  noted 
"  revival  "  preacher,  whose  coming  had  been  announced 
some  time  in  advance.  He  was  a  Kentuckian,  of  consid- 
erable fame  in  his  own  sect,  and  even  beyond  its  borders, 
so  that  his  appearance  never  failed  to  draw  crowds  together. 
As  this  was  his  first  visit  to  Reading,  it  was  an  event 
which  could  not,  of  course,  be  allowed  to  go  by  without  giv- 
ing the  church  the  full  benefit  of  the  impression  he  should 
produce,  and  a  large  increase  of  the  congregation  was 
counted  upon  as  a  sure  result 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  113 

Finally,  Mr.  Brandreth,  the  resident  clergyman,  an 
oounced  with  unusual  unction  that  "  on  the  next  Sabbath 
Brother  Mellowby  would  occupy  the  pulpit."  The  news  im- 
mediately spread  through  the  town,  and  was  duly  announced 
in  the  papers.  When  the  clay  and  hour  arrived,  the  church 
was  so  crowded  that  extra  benches  were  brought  and  placed 
lengthwise  along  the  aisles.  Expectation  was  on  tiptoe 
when,  after  the  hymn  had  been  sung  and  Mr.  Brandreth 
had  made  a  prayer  in  which  the  distinguished  brother  was 
not  forgotten,  a  tall  form  arose  and  stood  in  the  pulpit. 
Brother  Mellowby  was  over  six  feet  in  height,  and  rather 
lank,  but  with  broad,  square  shoulders  and  massive  face. 
His  eyes  were  large  and  dark,  and  his  black  hair,  growing 
straight  upward  from  his  forehead,  turned  and  fell  on  either 
side  in  long  locks,  which  tossed  and  waved  in  the  wind  of 
his  eloquence.  1 1  is  cheek-bones  were  prominent,  his  mouth 
large  and  expressive  (that  of  Michael  Angelo's  "  Moses  " 
still  reminds  me  of  it),  and  his  chin  square  and  strong. 
Altogether,  evidently  a  man  of  power  and  of  purpose,  but 
with  more  iron  than  gold  in  his  composition.  He  looked,  to 
me.  as  if  he  had  at  one  time  been  near  enough  to  Hell  to  feel 
the  scorch  of  its  flames,  and  had  thence  fought  his  way  to 
Heaven  by  sheer  force  of  a  will  stronger  than  the  Devil's. 

The  commencement  of  his  sermon  was  grave,  earnest, 
and  deliberate.  It  held  the  attention  of  the  congregation 
rather  by  the  clear,  full,  varied  music  of  his  voice  than  by 
any  peculiar  force  of  expression.  Towrards  the  close,  how- 
ever, as  he  touched  upon  the  glories  of  the  Christian's  fu- 
ture reward,  the  wonderful  power  of  his  voice  and  the 
warmth  of  his  personal  magnetism  developed  themselves. 
Looking  upwards,  with  rapt  ecstatic  gaze,  he  seemed  verily 
to  behold  what  he  described,  —  the  clouds  opening,  the 
glory  breaking  through,  the  waving  of  golden  palnis  in  the 
hands  of  the  congregated  angels,  the  towers  of  the  New 
Jerusalem,  shining  far  off,  in  deeps  of  infinite  lustre,  the 
green  Eden  of  Heaven,  watered  by  the  River  of  Life, — 
8 


114  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

and  :hen,  glory  surpassing  all  these  glories,  the  unimagin 
able  radiance  of  the  Throne.  Still  pointing  upwards,  as  he 
approached  the  awful  light,  he  suddenly  stopped,  covered 
his  eyes,  and  in  a  voice  of  tremulous  awe,  exclaimed,  "  The 
Seraphs  veil  their  brows  before  Him,  —  the  eyes  of  the  re- 
deemed souls  dare  not  look  upon  His  countenance,  —  the 
mind  clothed  in  corrupting  flesh  cannot  imagine  His  glory ! " 

The  speaker  sat  down.  I  had  scarcely  breathed  during 
this  remarkable  peroration,  and,  when  his  voice  ceased, 
seemed  to  drop  through  leagues  of  illuminated  air,  to  find 
myself,  with  a  shock,  in  my  uncle's  pew.  For  a  few  seconds 
the  silence  endured ;  then  a  singular,  convulsive  sound,  which 
was  not  a  cry,  yet  could  scarcely  be  called  a  groan,  ran 
through  the  church.  Some  voices  exclaimed  "  Glory  ! "  the 
women  raised  their  handkerchiefs  to  their  faces,  and  an  un- 
accustomed light  shone  from  the  eyes  of  the  men.  The 
hymn  commencing,  "  Turn  to  the  Lord  and  seek  salvation" 
then  arose  from  the  congregation  with  a  fervor  which  made 
it  seem  the  very  trumpet-call  and  battle-charge  of  the  ar- 
mies of  the  Cross. 

I  did  not  go  to  church  in  the  evening,  but  I  heard  that 
the  impression  produced  by  Mr.  Mellowby's  first  sermon 
was  still  further  increased  by  his  second.  Several  "  hope- 
ful "  cases  were  already  reported,  and  the  services  were  an- 
nounced to  continue  through  the  week.  My  uncle  proposed 
that  Bolty  and  I  should  relieve  each  other  alternately,  in  the 
evenings,  so  that  we  might  both  attend.  I  was  prevented, 
however,  from  going  again  until  Wednesday,  by  which  time 
he  had  decided  to  put  up  the  shutters  an  hour  earlier,  even 
at  the  loss  of  some  little  custom. 

On  this  occasion,  Bolty  and  I  went  together.  When  we 
entered  the  church,  we  found  it  well  filled,  and  the  atmos- 
phere almost  stifling.  Brother  Mellowby  was  "  exhorting," 
but,  from  a  broad  cross-aisle  in  front  of  the  pews,  up  and 
down  which  he  walked,  pausing  now  and  then  to  turn  and 
hurl  impassioned  appeals  to  his  sniditors.  Whenever  he 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  113 

stopped  a  moment  to  recover  breath,  a  wild  chorus  of  eric* 
and  groans  arose,  mingled  with  exclamations  of  "Amen  ! '' 
"  Glory  !  "  "  Go  on.  Brother  !  "  Speaker  and  hearers  were 
evidently  strung  to  the  same  pitch  of  excitement,  and  mut- 
ually inspired  each  other.  Mr.  Brandreth,  Uncle  Amos, 
and  several  prominent  members  of  the  congregation  walked 
up  and  down  the  aisles,  seizing  upon  the  timid  or  hesitating, 
placing  their  arms  about  the  necks  of  the  latter,  gentl} 
coaxing  them  to  kneel,  or,  when  wholly  successful,  leading 
them,  sobbing  and  howling,  to  the  "  anxious  seat  "  in  front 
of  the  pulpit.  These  intermediate  agents  were  radiant  with 
satisfaction  ;  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  seemed  to  exhila- 
rate and  agreeably  excite  them.  For  my  part,  I  looked  on 
the  scene  with  wonder,  not  unmixed  with  a  sense  of  pain. 

Brother  Mellowby  had  been  apparently  engaged  in  per- 
suasive efforts  up  to  the  time  of  my  entrance.  Some  twelve 
or  fifteen  persons  had  been  moved,  and  were  kneeling  in 
various  attitudes  —  some  prostrate  and  silent,  some  crying 
and  flinging  up  their  arms  convulsively  —  at  the  anxious 
seat  Others  were  weeping  or  groaning  in  their  seats  in  the 
pews,  but  still  hung  back  from  the  step  which  proclaimed 
them  confessed  sinners,  seeking  for  mercy.  It  was  to  these 
latter  that  the  speaker  now  addressed  himself  with  a  new 
and  more  powerfid  effort 

I  can  only  attempt  to  describe  it  To  my  sensitive, 
beauty-loving  nature,  it  was  awful,  yet  pervaded  with  a 
wonderful  fascination  which  held  me  to  listen.  He  painted 
the  future  condition  of  the  unconverted  with  an  imagina- 
tion as  terrible  as  his  vision  of  the  Christian's  Heaven  had 
been  dazzling  and  lovely.  It  was  a  feat  of  word-painting, 
accompanied  with  dramatic  gestures  which  brought  the 
white-hot  sul  (.»hur  of  Hell  to  one's  very  feet,  and  yith  in 
tonations  of  voice  which  suggested  the  eternal  despair  of 
the  damned. 

"  There  !  "  he  cried,  lifting  his  long  arms  high  above  his 
head,  and  then  bringing  them  down  with  a  rushing  swoop 


116  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

until  his  hands  nearly  touched  the  floor,  —  "  Sinners,  there 
is  your  bed !  In  the  burning  lake  —  in  the  bottomless  seas 
of  fire,  —  where  the  Evil  that  now  flatters  you  with  hon- 
eyed kisses  shall  sting  and  gnaw  and  torture  forever, — 
where  the  fallen  angels  themselves  shall  laugh  at  your  ago- 
nies, and  the  burning  remorse  of  millions  of  ages  shall  no> 
avail  to  open  the  gates  of  the  pit !  For  you  will  be  forevei 
sinking  down  —  down  —  DOWN  —  DOWN,  in  the  eternity 
of  Hell !  " 

He  shouted  out  the  last  words  as  if  crying  from  the 
depths  of  anguish  he  had  depicted.  His  face  was  like  that 
of  a  lost  angel,  grand  and  awful  in  its  gloomy  light  Ex- 
clamations of  "  Lord,  have  mercy !  "  "  Lord,  save  me  !  " 
arose  all  over  the  church,  and  some  of  the  mourners  in 
front  became  frantic  in  their  despairing  appeals.  Bolty, 
at  my  side,  was  sobbing  violently.  For  myself,  I  felt  op- 
pressed and  bewildered  ;  my  mind  seemed  to  be  narcotized 
by  some  weird  influence,  though  I  was  not  conscious  of  any 
terror  on  my  soul's  account. 

Brother  Mellowby's  tone  suddenly  changed  again. 
Stretching  forth  his  hands  imploringly,  he  called,  in  ac- 
cents of  piercing  entreaty,  "  Why  do  ye  delay  ?  See,  the 
Redeemer  stands  ready  to  receive  you !  Now  is  the  ac- 
cepted time,  and  now  is  the  day  of  salvation.  Kneel  down 
at  His  feet,  acknowledge  Him,  lay  your  burden  into  His 
willing  hands.  Oh,  were  your  sins  redder  than  scarlet 
they  shall  be  washed  white;  oh,  were  the  gates  now  yarn- 
ing to  receive  you,  He  would  snatch  you  as  a  brand  from 
the  burning ;  oh,  if  your  hearts  are  bniised  and  bleeding, 
.they  will  be  healed;  oh,  the  tears  will  be  wiped  from  your 
eyes ;  oh,  your  souls  will  rejoice  and  will  sing  aloud  in  grat- 
itude and  triumph,  and  you  will  feel  the  blessed  assurance 
of  salvation  which  the  world  cannot  take  away  '. " 

Tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks  as  he  uttered  these  words . 
a  softer  yet  not  less  powerful  influence  swayed  the  doubtful 
mourners.  They  shook  as  reeds  in  the  wind,  and  one  by 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  117 

one,  amid  shouts  of  "  Glory  !  glory ! "  tottered  forward  and 
sank  down  among  the  other  suppliants. 

I  could  not  doubt  the  solemn  reality  of  the  scene.  The 
preacher  felt,  with  every  fibre  of  his  body,  that  he  was  an 
nouncing  God's  truth,  and  the  "  mourners."  as  they  were 
called,  were,  for  the  hour  at  least,  sincere  in  their  self-accu- 
sations and  their  cry  for  some  evidence  of  pardon.  I  com- 
prehended also,  from  what  I  saw  and  heard,  that  there  was 
indeed  a  crisis  or  turning-point  of  the  excitement,  beyond 
which  the  cries  of  penitence  and  supplication  became  joy- 
ful hosannas.  There,  before  me,  human  souls  seemed  to 
be  hovering  in  the  balance,  each  fighting  for  itself  the 
dread  battle  of  Armageddon,  the  issue  of  which  was  to  fix 
its  eternal  fate.  Some  were  crouching  in  guilty  fear  of  the 
Wrath  they  had  invoked,  while  others  sprang  upward  with 
radiant  faces,  as  if  to  grasp  the  garments  of  the  invisible 
jerald  of  mercy.  The  tragedy  of  our  spiritual  nature,  in 
all  its  extremes  of  agony  and  joy,  was  there  dimly  enacted. 

It  was  impossible  to  stand  still  and  behold  all  this  un- 
moved. I  was  not  conscious  of  being  touched,  either  by 
the  Terror  or  the  Promise  :  but  a  human  sympathy  with  the 
passion  of  the  fluctuating,  torn,  and  shattered  spirits  around 
me  —  drifted  here  and  there  like  the  eddies  of  ghosts  in 
the  circles  of  Dante's  "  Purgatorio  "  —  filled  me  with  bound- 
less pity.  The  tears  were  running  down  my  face  before  I 
knew  it.  Yet  I  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  astonish- 
ment when  I  saw  the  impassive  Bolty  led  forward  weeping 
and  roaring  for  mercy,  and  bend  down  his  bullet-head  in 
the  midst  of  the  mourners. 

Presently  Uncle  Amos  came  towards  me.  He  laid  his 
hand  affectionately  upon  my  shoulder,  and  said,  with  a  tone 
In  which  there  was  triumph  as  well  as  persuasion,  "  Ah,  I 
see  you  are  touched  at  last,  John.  Now  you  will  knor 
what  it  is  to  experience  Religion.  The  gates  are  opened 
this  night  and  there  is  joy  and  glory  enough  for  ail.  Comt 
forward,  and  let  us  pray  together." 


118  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

He  took  hold  of  my  arm,  but  I  drew  back.  I  could  not 
plunge  into  that  chaos  of  shrieks  and  sobbing,  around  the 
•'*  anxious  seat." 

•'  How  ?  "  said  my  uncle,  in  grave  surprise :  "  with  all  this 
testimony  of  the  saving  power  of  Grace,  you  are  not  willing 
to  pray  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes."  I  answered,  "  I  am  willing  to  pray." 

«  Come,  then." 

"  I  need  not  go  there  to  do  it.  I  can  pray,  in  my  heart, 
here,  just  as  well." 

"  Ah  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  it  was  thus  that  the  Pharisee 
prayed ;  but  the  poor  publican,  who  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  and  cried,  '  God,  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ! '  made 
the  prayer  which  was  accepted." 

"No,  Uncle  Amos,"  I  retorted,  "the  publican  did  not 
throw  himself  upon  the  ground.  The  Bible  says  he  stood 
afar  off,  and  smote  upon  his  breast." 

I  was  perfectly  earnest  and  sincere  in  what  I  said,  but  I 
verily  believe  that  my  uncle  suspected  a  hidden  sarcasm  in 
my  words.  He  left  me  abruptly,  and  I  soon  saw  him  in 
conversation  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brandreth,  in  the  forward 
part  of  the  aisle.  It  was  not  long  before  the  latter,  stopping 
by  the  way  to  stoop  and  whisper  encouragement  into  the 
ears  of  some  who  were  kneeling  in  the  pews,  approached 
the  place  where  I  stood.  I  knew,  immediately,  that  he  had 
been  sent,  but  I  did  not  shrink  from  the  encounter,  be- 
cause, so  far  as  I  knew  him,  I  had  found  him  to  be  an  ami- 
able and  kindhearted  man.  My  tears  of  sympathy  were 
already  dry,  but  I  felt  that  I  was  trembling  and  excited. 

"  Brother  Godfrey,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  are  you  ready, 
to-night,  to  acknowledge  your  Saviour  ?  " 

"  I  have  always  done  it,"  I  answered ;  "  I  belong  to  the 
Lutheran  Church." 

"  You  are  a  professing  Christian,  then  ?  " 

I  did  not  precisely  know  what  meaning  he  attached  tr 
the  word  "professing."  !>u'  '  answered.  "  Yes." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  119 

"  "We  accept  all  such  to  free  communion  with  us.  Come 
And  unite  with  us  in  prayer  for  these  perishing  souls ! " 

I  again  declined,  giving  him  the  same  reason  as  I  had 
given  to  my  uncle.  But  the  clergyman's  reply  to  this  plea 
was  not  so  easy  to  evade. 

"  In  the  hearing  of  God,"  said  he,  "  your  prayer  may  be 
just  as  fervent ;  but,  so  far  as  your  fellow-mortals  are  con- 
cerned, it  is  lost.  While  you  stand  here,  you  are  counted 
among  the  cold  and  the  indifferent.  Give  a  visible  sign  of 
your  pious  interest,  my  brother ;  think  that  some  poor, 
limorous  soul,  almost  ready  to  acknowledge  its  sin  and  cry 
aloud  for  pardon,  may  be  helped  to  eternal  salvation  by 
your  example.  Come  forward  and  pray  for  and  with  them 
who  are  just  learning  to  pray.  If  you  feel  the  blessed 
security  in  your  own  heart,  oh,  come  and  help  to  pour  it 
into  the  hearts  of  others  !  " 

He  said  much  more  to  the  same  effect,  and  I  found  it 
very  difficult  to  answer  him.  I  was  bewildered  and  dis- 
tressed, and  my  only  distinct  sensation  was  that  of  pain. 
The  religious  sentiment  in  my  nature  seemed  to  be  raked 
and  tortured,  not  serenely  and  healthfully  elevated.  But  I 
was  too  young  to  clearly  comprehend  either  myself  or 
others,  and  I  saw  no  way  out  of  the  dilemma  except  to 
kneel,  as  Mr.  Brandreth  insisted,  and  pray  silently  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening. 

I  therefore  allowed  him  to  lead  me  forward.  The  con- 
gregation, of  course,  supposed  that  I  came  as  another 
mourner,  —  another  treasure-trove,  cast  up  from  the  rag- 
ing deeps,  —  and  greeted  my  movement  with  fresh  shouts 
and  hosannas.  Uncle  Amos  gave  a  triumphant  exclama- 
tion of  "  Glory !  "  or,  rather,  "  GULLOW-RY  ! "  as  he  pro- 
nounced it,  in  the  effort  to  make  as  much  as  possible  out 
of  the  word.  Brother  Mellowby  tossed  back  his  floating 
hair,  threw  out  his  long  arms,  and  cried,  "Another  —  still 
another !  Oh,  come  all !  this  night  there  is  rejoicing  it 
Heaven  !  This  night  the  throne  of  Hell  totters ! " 


120  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

The  "  anxious  seat "  was  painful  to  contemplate  at  a  dis 
tance,  but  there  was  something  terrifying  in  a  nearer  view. 
A  girl  of  twenty,  whose  comb  had  been  broken  in  tearing 
off  her  bonnet,  leaped  up  and  down,  with  streaming  hair, 
clapping  her  hands,  and  shouting,  or  rather  chanting, 
"  Praise  the  Lord,  praise  the  Lord,  0  my  soul !  "  Another 
lay  upon  her  back  on  the  floor,  screaming,  while  Aunt 
Peggy,  leaning  over  the  back  of  the  next  pew,  fanned  her 
face  with  a  palm-leaf  fan.  The  men  were  less  violent  in 
their  convulsions,  but  their  terrible  weeping  and  sobbing 
was  almost  more  than  I  could  bear  to  hear. 

I  was  glad  to  sink  into  some  vacant  place,  and  bury  my 
face  in  my  hands,  that  I  might  escape,  in  a  measure,  from 
the  curious  eyes  of  the  unconverted  spectators  and  the  mis- 
taken rejoicings  of  the  church-members.  On  either  side 
of  me  was  a  strong,  full-grown  man,  —  one  motionless,  and 
groaning  heavily  from  time  to  time,  while  the  other,  after 
spasms  during  which  he  threw  up  his  head  and  arms,  and 
literally  howled,  fell  down  again,  and  confessed  his  secret 
sins  audibly  at  my  very  ear.  He  was  either  unconscious 
of  the  proximity  of  others,  or  carried  too  far  in  his  excite- 
ment to  care  for  it  I  could  not  avoid  hearing  the  man's 
acknowledged  record  of  guilt,  —  let  not  the  reader  imagine 
that  1  ever  betrayed  him,  —  and  I  remember  thinking, 
even  in  the  midst  of  my  own  bewilderment,  that  he  was  a 
very  venial  sinner,  at  the  worst,  and  his  distress  was  alto- 
gether out  of  proportion  to  his  offences.  God  would  cer- 
tainly pardon  him.  This  thought  led  me  to  an  examination 
of  my  own  life.  To  Uncle  Amos  I  had  rather  indignantly 
repelled  the  epithet  of  "  sinner,"  but  might  I  not,  after  all, 
be  more  culpable  than  I  had  supposed  ?  Was  there  noth- 
ing on  account  of  which  1  might  not  plead  for  the  Divine 
pardon  ? 

But  I  was  not  allowed  to  proceed  far  in  this  silent  sui- 
vey  of  my  life.  Supposing,  after  my  conversation  with  Mr. 
Brandreth,  that  the  attitude  and  fact  of  prayer  was  all  thai 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  121 

was  required  of  me,  as  an  evidence  of  sympathy  and  a  pos 
sible  help  to  some  hesitating  soul,  I  made  no  further  dem- 
onstrations, but  knelt,  with  my  arms  upon  the  bench  and 
my  forehead  bowed  upon  them.  I  was  beginning  to  collect 
my  confused  thoughts,  when  a  lamenting  female  voice  was 
heard  at  my  ear,  "'  How  do  you  feel,  John  ?  " 

If  a  feeling  of  exasperation  at  such  a  place  and  time  was 
sinful,  I  sinned.  "  Aunt  Peggy,"  I  said,  somewhat  sternly, 
—  (for  I  knew  that  unless  I  made  answer  the  question 
would  be  repeated,)  —  "  Aunt  Peggy,  T  am  trying  to  pray." 

She  left  me,  but  I  was  not  long  alone.  As  soon  as  I 
heard  a  combined  creaking  of  boot-soles  and  knee-joints 
behind  me,  I  knew  whose  voice  would  follow.  I  was  patted 
on  the  back  by  a  large,  dumpy  hand,  and  Uncle  Amos  said, 
in  a  hollow  undertone,  "•  That 's  right ;  John,  pray  on  !  shall 
I  help  you  to  throw  down  your  burden  ?  " 

My  nerves  twitched  and  drew  back,  as  his  heavy  arm 
stole  across  my  neck.  This  was  the  climax  of  my  distress, 
and  I  plucked  up  a  desperate  courage  to  meet  it.  "  Uncle 
Amos,"  said  I,  "  I  can  neither  pray  nor  think  here,  among 
these  people.  Let  me  go  home  to  my  room,  and  I  promise 
you  that,  before  I  sleep  to-night,  I  will  know  what  is  in  my 
heart  and  what  are  its  relations  to  God  !  " 

Mr.  Brandreth  was  standing  near,  and  heard  my  words. 
At  least,  some  voice  which  I  took  to  be  his,  whispered,  "  I 
think  it  will  be  best"  I  have  a  dim  recollection  of  getting 
out  of  the  church  by  the  door  in  the  rear  of  the  pulpit ;  of 
my  aunt  walking  home  beside  me,  under  the  starry  sky, 
uttering  lamentations  to  which  I  paid  no  heed  ;  of  rushing 
breathlessly  up  the  staircase  to  my  garret,  opening  the  win  • 
dow,  drawing  a  chair  beside  it,  resting  my  chin  on  the  win- 
dow-sill, and  shedding  tears  of  pure  joy  and  relief  on  find- 
ing myself  alone  in  the  holy  peace  and  silence  of  the 
night.  The  presence  of  God  came  swiftly  down  to  me 
from  the  starry  deeps.  "  Here  is  my  heart ! "  cried  a  voice 
in  my  breast ;  "  look  at  it  Father,  and  tell  me  what  I  am ! ' 


122  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

Then  I  seemed  to  behold  it  myself,  and  strove  to  disen- 
tangle the  roots  of  Self  from  the  memory  of  my  boyish  life, 
that  I  might  stand  apart  and  judge  it.  I  found  pride,  im- 
patience, folly ;  but  they  were  as  light  surface-waves  which 
disappeared  with  their  cause.  I  found  childish  likes  and 
dislikes ;  silly  little  enmities,  which  had  left  no  sting ; 
pranks,  instigated  by  the  spirit  of  Fun  rather  than  that  of 
Evil  ;  and  later,  secret  protests  against  the  sorrows  and 
trials  of  my  life.  But  all  these  things  gave  me  lob's  trouble 
than  one  little  incident  which  perversely  clung  to  my  mem- 
ory, and  still  does,  with  a  sense  of  shame  which  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  overcome.  Several  of  us  boys  were  play- 
ing about  the  tavern  at  the  Cross-Keys,  one  afternoon  in 
August,  when  a  dealer  in  water-melons  came  by  with  a  cart- 
load of  them  for  sale.  We  looked  on,  with  longing  eyes 
and  watery  mouths,  while  he  disposed  of  several ;  and  at 
last  the  dealer  generously  gave  us  one  which  had  been  sev- 
eral times  "  plugged,"  and  was  cracked  at  one  end.  We 
hurried  under  the  barn-bridge  with  our  treasure,  and  agreed 
to  take  "  slice  about,"  so  as  to  have  an  equal  division.  The 
crack,  however,  divided  the  solid,  sweet,  crimson  centre 
from  the  seedy  strip  next  the  rind  —  so  we  commenced  with 
the  latter,  leaving  a  tower  of  delicious  aspect  standing  in 
the  midst  of  the  melon.  I  looked  at  it  until  I  became 
charmed,  entranced,  insane  with  desire  to  crush  its  cool, 
sugared  filigree  upon  my  tongue,  and  when  my  next  turn 
came,  stretched  forth  a  daring  hand  and  cut  off  the  tower  ! 
The  other  boys  looked  at  each  other :  one  gave  a  long 
whistle  ;  one  exclaimed  "  Goy  !  "  and  the  third  added  the 
climax  by  the  sentence,  "  What  a  hog  !  "  Before  I  had  fin- 
ished eating  the  tower  it  had  turned  to  gall  and  wormwood 
in  my  mouth.  I  choked  it  down,  however,  and  went  home, 
without  touching  the  melon  again. 

That  night,  as  I  leaned  upon  the  window-sill,  and  recalled 
my  faults  and  frailties,  this  incident  came  back  and  placed 
itself  in  the  front  rank  of  my  offences.  I  could  look  calmly, 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  123 

or  with  a  scarcely  felt  remainder  of  penitence,  npon  all 
else,  but  my  humiliation  for  this  act  burned  as  keenly  as 
on  the  first  day.  It  so  wearied  me,  finally,  that  I  gave  up 
the  retrospect.  I  was  satisfied  that  God's  omnipotent  love, 
not  his  wrath,  overhung  and  embraced  me  ;  that  my  heart, 
though  often  erring  and  clouded,  never  consciously  lusted 
after  Evil.  I  longed  for  its  purification,  not  for  its  change. 
I  should  not  shrink  from  Death,  if  he  approached,  through 
fear  of  the  Hereafter  ;  I  might  receive  a  low  seat  in  Para- 
dise, but  I  certainly  had  done  nothing — and  would  not, 
with  God's  help  —  to  deserve  the  awful  punishment  which 
Brother  Mellowby  had  described. 

In  relating  this  portion  of  my  life,  I  tmst  that  I  shall  not 
be  misunderstood.  I  owe  reverence  to  the  spirit  of  Devo- 
tion, in  whatever  form  it  is  manifested,  and  have  no  inten- 
tion of  assailing,  or  even  undervaluing,  that  which  I  have 
just  described.  There  are,  undoubtedly,  natures  which  can 
only  be  reached  by  brandishing  the  menace  of  retribution, 
—  perhaps,  also,  by  the  agency  of  strong  physical  excite- 
ment. I  do  not  belong  to  such.  Religion  enters  my  heart 
through  the  gateway  of  Love  and  not  that  of  Fear.  The 
latter  entrance  was  locked  and  the  key  thrown  away,  al- 
most before  I  can  remember  it.  Brother  Mellowby's  revi- 
val had  an  influence  upon  my  after-fortunes,  as  will  be  seen 
presently,  and  I  therefore  relate  it  precisely  as  it  occurred. 

Two  hours  passed  away  while  I  sat  at  the  open  window. 
I  cannot  now  repioduce  all  the  movements  of  my  mind,  nor 
follow  the  devious  ways  by  which,  at  the  last,  I  reached  the 
important  result  —  peace.  When  it  was  over,  I  felt  languid 
in  body,  but  at  heart  immensely  cheered  and  strengthened. 
I  foresaw  that  trouble  awaited  me,  but  I  was  better  armed 
to  meet  it 

I  had  scarcely  gone  to  bed,  before  Bolty  made  his  ap- 
pearance. From  the  suppressed  shouts  of  "C.lory!  Glo- 
ry!" as  he  was  ascending  the  last  flight  of  stairs,  I  knew 
that  he  had  "got  through,"  —  to  use  Uncle  Amos's  exprea 


124  .JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

sion.  I  therefore  counterfeited  sleep,  and  was  regaled  with 
snatches  of  triumphant  hymns,  and  a  very  long  and  hoarsely 
audible  prayer,  delivered  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  before  he 
became  subdued  enough  to  sleep.  The  powers  of  his  big 
body  must  have  been  severely  taxed,  for,  when  I  arose  in 
Ihe  morning,  he  still  lay  locked  in  a  slumber  as  heavy  and 
motionless  as  death.  In  fact,  he  did  not  awake  until  nearly 
noon,  Uncle  Amos  not  allowing  him  to  be  disturbed.  The 
latter  looked  at  me  sharply  and  frequently  during  the  day, 
but  he  had  no  opportunity  for  reference  to  my  spiritual  con- 
dition, except  in  the  course  of  the  unusually  prolonged 
grace  at  dinner.  He  prayed  with  unction  both  for  Bolty 
and  myself. 

In  the  evening,  when  he  announced  that  we  might  again 
put  up  the  shutters  at  eight  o'clock,  in  order  to  attend  the 
services,  I  quietly  said,  — 

"  It  is  n't  necessary,  Uncle  Amos.  I  am  not  going  to 
your  church  this  evening." 

He  grew  very  red  about  the  jaws,  and  the  veins  on  his 
forehead  swelled.  "  What  did  you  promise  me  last  even- 
ing ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  kept  my  promise,"  I  answered.  "  It  would  be 
a  mockery  if  I  should  go  forward  with  the  rest  to  repent  of 
sins  which  have  been  already  forgiven.  I  understand,  now, 
what  you  mean  by  a  change  of  heart,  but  1  do  not  need  it." 

Uncle  Amos  threw  up  his  hands  and  exclaimed,  '•  Lord, 
deliver  me  from  vanity  of  heart ! "  Aunt  1'eggy,  in  her 
dingy  bombazine  bonnet,  fell  into  spasms  of  clucking,  and 
this  time  did  really  shed  a  few  tears  as  she  cried,  •"  To  think 
that  one  o'  my  family  should  be  so  hardened  ! '' 

"  I  should  like  to  know  where  the  Pharisees  are  now !  " 
I  cried,  hot  with  anger. 

"  Come,  wife,  —  let  us  pray  to-night  for  the  obdoorate 
sinner  !  "  said  my  uncle,  taking  her  by  the  arm.  Bolty  fol- 
lowed, and  they  all  went  to  church,  leaving  me  in  the  store. 

After  1   had  closed  for  the  night,  I  resumed  my  post  at 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  125 

the  bedroom-window,  and  reflected  upon  my  probable  po- 
sition in  the  house.  It  had  hitherto  been  barely  endurable 
to  a  youth  of  my  tastes  and  my  ambition,  but  now  I  foresaw 
that  it  would  become  insupportable.  Neither  uncle  nor 
aunt,  I  was  sure,  would  ever  look  upon  me  with  favor ;  and 
even  Bolty,  who  had  thus  far  tacitly  befriended  me,  might 
think  it  his  duty  to  turn  informer  and  persecutor.  I  much 
more  than  earned  my  board  by  my  services,  and  therefore 
recognized  no  moral  obligation  towards  my  uncle.  The  le- 
gal one  still  existed,  but  it  could  not  force  me  to  lead  a 
slavish  and  unhappy  life  against  my  will.  I  should  not  get 
possession  of  my  little  property  for  a  year  and  a  half;  but 
I  could  certainly  trust  to  my  own  resources  of  hand  or  braia 
in  the  meantime.  The  matter  was  soon  settled  in  my  mind 
I  would  leave  "A.  Woolley's  Grocery  Store  "  fore>  er. 


'26  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CONCERNING   MY    ESTABLISHMENT   IN    UPPER    SAMARIA. 

I  DEVOTED  my  first  leisure  hour  to  a  confidential  visit  to 
Charley  Rand.  His  smooth,  amiable  ways  had  done  much 
to  make  our  intercourse  closer  than  it  ever  had  been  at 
school,  though  there  was  still  something  in  his  face  which 
led  me  occasionally  to  distrust  him.  His  mottled  gray 
eyes,  which  could  look  at  one  steadily  and  sweetly,  were" 
generally  restless,  and  the  mellowness  of  his  voice  some- 
times showed  its  want  of  perfect  training  by  slipping  into 
a  harsher  natural  tone.  Besides,  he  was  a  little  too  demon- 
strative. His  habit  of  putting  his  hand  on  my  shoulder 
and  commencing  a  remark  with  (emphasizing  every  word) 
"Mr — DEAR  —  FRIEND,"  made  me  feel  uncomfortable. 
Nevertheless,  his  presence  in  Reading  was  a  satisfaction  to 
me,  and  I  bestowed  a  great  deal  of  friendly  affection  upon 
him  for  the  reason  that  there  was  no  one  else  to  whom  I 
could  give  it. 

To  him,  then,  I  related  all  that  had  happened.  The 
habit  of  the  future  lawyer  seemed  to  be  already  creeping 
over  him.  He  interrupted  my  narrative  with  an  occasional 
question,  in  order  to  make  certain  points  clearer,  and,  when 
I  had  finished,  meditated  a  while  in  silence.  "  It 's  a  pity," 
he  said  at  last,  "  that  I  'm  not  already  admitted  to  practice, 
and  sporting  my  own  shingle.  I  should  like  to  know  your 
uncle,  anyhow :  can't  you  introduce  me  ?  " 

I  felt  a  great  repugnance  to  this  proposal,  and  urged 
Rand  not  to  insist  upon  it 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  he,  carelessly,  "  it 's  of  no  consequence, 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  127 

except  on  your  account.  I  'm  sure  I  have  no  inclination  to 
meet  the  old  porpoise.  But  I  'd  advise  you  to  work  along, 
the  best  way  you  can,  until  you  can  get  a  better  hook  on 
him  than  you  have  now." 

"  No,  Rand  !  "  I  interrupted,  "  my  mind  is  made  up.  i 
shall  leave  his  house." 

In  the  course  of  the  conversation  Rand  had  managed  to 
extract  from  me  the  amount  of  my  own  little  property,  and 
the  disposition  of  the  interest  due  the  previous  spring, 
the  greater  part  of  which  I  had  allowed  my  uncle  to  rein- 
vest He  also  questioned  me  concerning  the  latter's  for- 
tune, and  seemed  desirous  to  know  a  great  many  partic- 
ulars which  had  no  apparent  bearing  on  the  present  crisis 
in  my  fortunes.  Our  talk  ended,  however,  in  my  repeat- 
ing my  determination  to  leave. 

"  I  hoped.  Rand,"  I  added,  "  that  you  could  advise  me 
what  to  do.  I  can  only  think  of  two  things, —  teaching  a 
country  school,  or  getting  a  situation  in  another  store.  Of 
course,  I  should  rather  teach." 

"Then,  if  you  are  bent  upon  it,  Godfrey,  I  think  I  can 
help  you.  One  of  Mulford's  clients,  from  Upper  Samaria 
township,  —  not  far  from  Cardiff,  you  know,  —  was  talking 
about  a  teacher  for  their  school,  three  or  four  days  ago. 
He  's  a  director,  and  has  the  most  say,  a?  he  's  a  rich  old 
fellow.  I  '11  tell  Mulford  to  recommend  you,  if  you  've  a 
mind  to  try  it,  and  meanwhile  you  can  write  to  Dr.  Dymond 
for  a  certificate  of  your  fitness.  If  the  plan  succeeds  — 
and  I  don't  see  why  it  should  n't  —  you  may  say  good-bye 
to  the  old  porpoise  in  less  than  ten  days." 

I.  seized  Hand's  hand  and  poured  out  my  gratitude  ;  here 
was  a  way  opened  at  once  !  I  should  have  pleasant  em- 
ployment for  the  winter,  at  least,  and  a  little  capital  in  the 
spring  to  pursue  my  fortune  further.  The  same  evening  I 
wrote  to  Dr.  Drmond,  and  in  four  days  received  a  stiffly- 
worded  but  very  flattering  testimony  of  my  capacities.  Ir 
the  beginning  of  the  next  week,  -Mulford's  client,  a  Mr 


128  JOHN  GODFREY'S    FORTUNES. 

Bratton,  came  again  to  Reading,  and  Rand  was  as  good  as 
his  word.  He  recommended  me  so  strongly  that  Mr.  B. 
requested  an  interview,  which  was  at  once  arranged.  Rand 
came  for  me,  and  we  met  in  Mulford's  back-office. 

The  director,  upon  whom  my  success  mainly  depended, 
was  a  bluff,  hearty  man,  with  a  pompous  and  patronizing 
manner.  "  Ah,  you  are  the  young  man,"  he  said,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand,  and  surveying  me  the  while  from  head  to 
foot,  —  "  should  have  liked  a  little  more  signs  of  authority, 
—  very  necessary  where  there  are  big  boys  in  the  school. 
However.  Mine  is  not  a  rough  neighborhood,  —  very  much 
in  advance  of  Lower  Samaria." 

I  handed  him  Dr.  Dymond's  letter,  which  he  ran  through 
with  audible  comments  ;  —  "  '  promising  scholar  '  —  good, 
but  hardly  enough  for  Me  ;  — '  thorough  acquaintance  with 
grammar '  —  ah,  very  good  —  My  own  idee ;  — '  talent  for 
composition,'  '  Latin,'  —  rather  ornamental,  ra-a-ther  ;  — 
hem,  '  all  branches  of  arithmetic '  —  that 's  more  like  busi- 
ness. A  very  good  recommendation,  upon  the  whole.  How 
much  do  you  expect  to  be  paid  ?  " 

I  replied  that  I  wanted  no  more  than  the  usual  remuner- 
ation, admitting  that  I  had  never  yet  taught  school,  but 
that  I  should  make  every  effort  to  give  satisfaction. 

"  We  pay  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  dollars  a  month," 
said  he  ;  "  but  you  could  n't  expect  more  than  twenty  at  the 
start.  You  're  a  pig  in  a  poke,  you  know." 

This  was  not  very  flattering ;  but  as  I  saw  that  no  offence 
was  intended,  I  took  none.  Nay,  I  even  smiled  good- 
oumoredly  at  Mr.  Bratton's  remark,  and  thereby  won  his 
good-will.  When  we  parted,  the  engagement  was  almost 
made. 

"  For  form's  sake,"  said  he,  "  I  must  consult  the  othei 
directors ;  but  I  venture  to  say  that  My  recommendation 
will  be  sufficient.  If  you  come,  I  .shall  depend  upon  you 
to  justify  My  selection." 

I  now  judged  it  necessary  to  inform  my  uncle  of  the  COD 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  129 

teniplati-d  step.  I  presume  the  idea  of  it  had  never  en- 
tered his  head  ;  his  surprise  was  so  great  that  he  seemed 
at  a  loss  what  course  to  take.  When  he  found  that  both 
opposition  and  ridicule  were  of  no  avail,  he  tried  persua- 
sion, and  even  went  so  far  as  to  promise  me  immunity  from 
persecution  in  religious  matters. 

"  We  will  let  that  rest  for  the  present,"  said  he.  "  My 
ways  a'n't  your'n,  though  I  've  tried  to  bring  you  to  a  proper 
knowledge  of  your  soul,  for  your  own  good.  I  promised 
your  mother  I  'd  do  my  dooty  by  you.  but  you  don't  seem 
to  take  it  in  a  numble  spirit.  But  now  you  're  acquainted 
with  business,  in  a  measure,  and  likely  to  turn  out  well  if 
you  stick  to  it.  I  'd  always  reckoned  on  paying  you  a  sel- 
ery  after  you  come  of  age ;  it 's  a  sort  of  apprenticeship 
till  then.  And  you  've  a  little  capital,  and  can  make  it 
more.  I  don't  say  but  what  I  could  n't  take  you,  in  the 
course  of  time,  as  a  pardner  in  the  concern." 

I  tried  to  explain  that  my  taste  and  ambition  lay  in  a 
totally  opposite  direction.  —  that  T  neither  could  nor  would 
devote  my  life  to  the  mysteries  of  the  grocery  business.  It 
required  some  time  to  make  my  uncle  comprehend  my  sin- 
cerity. He  looked  upon  the  matter  as  the  temporary  whim 
of  a  boy.  When,  at  last,  he  saw  that  my  determination 
was  inflexible,  his  anger  returned,  more  violently  than  at 
first. 

"  Go,  then  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  I  wash  my  hands  of  you  !  But 
this  let  me  tell  you  —  look  out  for  yourself  till  you  're 
twenty-one  !  Not  a  penny  of  your  money  will  I  advance 
till  the  law  tells  me,  —  and  more,  not  a  penny  of  mine  will 
you  get  when  I  die  !  " 

These  words  roused  an  equal  anger  in  my  heart.  I  felt 
myself  turning  white,  and  ni)  voice  trembled  in  spite  of 
myself  as  I  exclaimed,  "  Keep  your  accursed  money !  Do 
yon  think  I  would  soil  my  fingers  with  it  ?  Holy  as  you 
are.  and  sinful  as  I  am,  I  look  down  upon  you  and  thank 
no  mean  thoughts  ever  entered  my  heart!" 


ISO  JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

The  breach  was  now  impassable.  I  had  cut  off  the  la-rf 
bridge  to  reconciliation.  Nothing  more  was  said,  and  J 
quietly  and  speedily  made  my  preparations  for  leaving  the 
house.  Bolty,  whose  manner  had  become  exceedingly 
mild  and  subdued  since  his  conversion,  did  not  seem  much 
surprised  by  the  catastrophe.  Perhaps  he  regretted  the 
loss  of  a  companion,  but  his  personal  emotions  were  too 
shallow  to  give  him  much  uneasiness.  I  watched,  with 
some  curiosity,  to  see  whether  he  would  still  recommend 
his  patent-medicines  in  the  accustomed  style ;  but  even 
here  he  was  changed.  With  an  air  of  quiet  gravity,  he 
affirmed,  "  The  pills  is  reckoned  to  be  very  good  ;  we  sel) 
a  great  many,  ma'am.  Them  that  cares  for  their  perishin' 
bodies  is  relieved  by  'em." 

This  mode  of  recommendation  seemed  to  be  just  as  ef- 
fectual as  the  former. 

Two  days  afterwards  a  note  arrived  from  Mr.  Bratton 
and  I  left  my  uncle's  house.  There  were  no  touching  fare- 
wells, and  no  tears  shed  except  Aunt  Peggy's,  as  she  ex- 
claimed, "  I  would  n't  have  believed  it  of  you  ;  but  you  ".! 
rue  it !  —  ts,  ts,  fs.  fs,  —  you  '11  rue  it,  too  late  ! "  In  spite 
of  this  evil  prediction,  I  think  she  must  have  felt  a  little 
shame  at  seeing  her  sister's  child  leave  her  doors  in  the 
way  I  did. 

A  rude  mail-coach  took  me  as  far  as  Cardiff,  where  I 
left  my  trunk  at  the  tavern,  and  set  out  on  foot  for  the  res- 
idence of  Mr.  Bratton.  It  was  Friday  ;  I  was  to  be  pre- 
sented to  the  directors  on  Saturday,  and  to  open  school  on 
Monday.  Upper  .Samaria  was  only  three  miles  from  Car- 
diff, —  the  latter  place,  a  village  of  some  four  hundred  in- 
habitants, being  the  post-office  for  the  region  round  about 

It  was  a  bright,  cheery  day.  A  bracing  wind  blew  from 
the  northwest,  slinking  the  chestnuts  from  their  burrs  and 
the  shell-barks  from  their  split  hulls.  The  farmers  and 
their  men  sat  in  the  fields,  each  before  his  overturned 
shock,  and  husked  the  long,  yellow  ears  of  corn.  I  passed 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  131 

a  load  of  apples  on  their  way  to  the  cider-press,  and  tl it- 
sunburnt  driver  grinned  with  simple  good-will  as  he  tossed 
me  a  ruddy  "  wine-sap."  Never  before  had  I  breathed  so 
exquisite  an  atmosphere  of  freedom.  I  stood  at  last  on  my 
own  independent  feet,  in  the  midst  of  the  bright  autumnal 
world.  Wind  and  sun,  the  rustling  trees  and  the  hasten- 
ing waters,  the  laborers  looking  up  as  1  passed,  and  some- 
where, deep  in  the  blue  overhead,  the  Spirit  that  orders 
and  upholds  every  form  of  life,  seemed  to  recognize  me  as 
a  creature  competent  to  take  charge  of  his  own  destiny- 
On  the  hilltops  I  paused  and  stretched  forth  my  arms  like 
a  discoverer  taking  possession  of  new  lands.  The  old  con- 
tinent of  dependence  and  subjection  lay  behind  me,  and  I 
saw  the  green  shores  of  the  free,  virgin  world. 

Happy  ignorance  of  youth  that  grasps  life  as  a  golden 
bounty,  not  as  a  charge  to  be  guarded  with  sleepless  eyes 
and  weary  heart!  Surely  some  movement  of  Divine  Pity 
granted  us  that  blindness  of  vision  in  which  we  only  se<. 
the  bloom  of  blood  on  cheek  and  lip,  not  the  dark  roots 
that  branch  below  —  the  garlanded  mask  of  joy  hiding  the 
tragic  mystery  ! 

After  a  while  the  rolling  upland  over  which  I  had  been 
wandering,  sank  gently  towards  the  southeast  into  a  broad. 
softly  outlined  valley,  watered  by  a  considerable  stream. 
The  landlord  at  Cardiff  had  given  me  minute  directions, 
so  that  when  I  saw  a  large  mill-pond  before  me,  with  a  race 
leading  to  an  old  stone-mill,  a  white  house  behind  two  im- 
mense weeping-willows  on  the  left,  and  a  massive  brick 
house  on  the  right,  across  the  stream,  I  knew  that  the  lat- 
ter edifice  must  be  the  residence  of  Mr.  (or  "Squire") 
Septimus  Bratton.  The  main  highway  followed  the  base 
of  some  low,  gradual  hills  on  the  left  bank,  and  a  furlong 
beyond  "  Yule's  Mill,"  as  the  place  was  called,  I  noticed  a 
square,  one-story  hut,  with  pyramidal  roof,  which  I  was 
sure  must  be  the  school-house.  A  little  further,  another 
road  came  across  the  hills  from  the  eastward,  and  at  the 


132  JOHN  GODFREY  S   FORTUNES. 

junction  there  were  a  dozen  buildings,  comprising,  as  1 
afterwards  discovered,  the  store,  blacksmith's  and  shoe- 
maker's shops,  and  the  "  Buck  "  Tavern,  where,  on  election- 
days,  the  polls  for  Upper  Samaria  were  held.  Down  the 
stream,  the  view  extended  for  two  or  three  miles  over  rich 
and  admirably  cultivated  farm-land,  interspersed  with  noble 
tracts  of  wood,  and  with  clumps  of  buttonwood-  and  ash- 
trees  along  the  course  of  the  stream. 

Mr.  B  ration's  house  stood  upon  a  knoll,  commanding  a 
very  agreeable  view  of  the  valley.  It  was  a  large  cube  of 
red  brick,  with  high  double  chimneys  at  each  end,  and  a 
veranda  in  front  supported  by  white  Ionic  columns  of 
wood.  A  dense  environment  of  Athenian  poplars  and  sil- 
ver-maples buried  the  place  in  shade,  while  the  enclosure 
sloping  down  to  the  road  was  dotted  with  balsam-fir  and 
arbor-vitae.  The  fact  that  this  lawn  —  if  it  could  be  so 
called  —  covered  an  acre  of  ground,  and  was  grown  with 
irregular  tufts  of  natural  grass,  instead  of  being  devoted 
to  potatoes,  indicated  wealth.  In  the  rear  rose  a  huge 
barn,  with  a  stable-yard  large  enough  to  hold  a  hundred 
cattle. 

I  walked  up  a  straight  central  path,  trodden  in  the  grass, 
and  ungravelled,  to  the  front-door,  and  knocked.  Foot- 
steps sounded  somewhere  within  and  then  died  away  again. 
After  waiting  ten  minutes,  I  repeated  the  knocking,  and 
presently  the  door  was  opened.  I  beheld  a  lovely  girl  of 
seventeen,  in  a  pale  green  dress,  which  brought  a  faint  rose- 
tint  to  a  face  naturally  colorless.  Her  light  gray  eyes  rested 
gently  on  mine,  and  I  know  that  I  blushed  with  surprise 
and  confusion.  She  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  least  embar- 
rassed, but  stood  silently  waiting  for  me  to  speak. 

"  Is  Mr.  Bratton  at  home  ?  "  I  finally  stammered. 

"  Pa  and  Ma  have  gone  to  Carte rstown  this  afternoon,"* 
said  she,  in  the  smoothest,  evenest,  most  delicious  voice  I 
had  ever  heard  "  They  will  be  back  soon  ;  will  you  walk 
in  and  wait  ?  " 


JOHN   GO.  FRET'S    FORTUNES.  133 

"  Yes,  if  you  please,"  T  answered.  "  I  think  Mr.  Bra*! 
ton  expects  me  ;  my  name  is  Godfrey." 

1  am  sure  she  had  already  guessed  who  I  was.  She  be- 
trayed no  sign  of  the  fact,  however,  but  demurely  led  the 
•vay  to  a  comfortable  sitting-room,  asked  me  to  take  a  seat, 
and  retired,  leaving  me  alone.  I  stole  across  the  carpet  to 
a  small  mirror  between  the  windows,  straitened  the  bow  of 
my  cravat,  ran  my  fingers  through  my  hair  to  give  it  a 
graceful  disposition,  and  examined  my  features  one  by  one, 
imagining  how  they  would  appear  to  a  stranger's  eye. 

I  had  scarcely  resumed  my  seat  before  Miss  Bratton  re- 
turned, with  a  blue  pitcher  in  one  hand  and  a  tumbler  in 
the  other. 

••  Will  you  have  a  glass  of  new  cider,  Mr.  Godfrey  ?  " 
she  asked,  dropping  her  eyes  an  instant.  "  It 's  sweet," 
she  added  ;  '•  you  can  take  it  without  breaking  the  pledge." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  I  answered  ;  for,  although  I  was  not  a 
member  of  a  Temperance  Society,  I  thought  she  might  be. 
She  stood  near  me,  holding  the  pitcher  while  I  drank,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  a  noise  of  deglutition  in  my 
throat  which  might  be  heard  all  over  the  house. 

She  took  a  seat  near  the  opposite  window,  with  some  sort 
of  net-work  in  her  hand.  I  felt  that  it  was  incumbent  on 
me  to  commence  the  conversation,  which  I  did  awkwardly 
enough,  I  suppose,  her  slow,  even,  liquid  words  forming  a 
remarkable  contrast  to  my  rapid  and  random  utterances. 
At  length,  however,  I  got  so  far  as  to  inform  her  that  I 
hoped  to  teach  in  the  neighboring  school-house  during  the 
coming  winter. 

••  Ind-e-e-ed  ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  an  accent  of  polite, 
subdued  interest  "  Then  we  shall  be  neighbors ;  for  I 
suppose  you  will  board  at  Yule's.  All  the  schoolmasters 
do." 

"  The  white  house  with  the  willows :  " 

"Yes.  Mr..  Yule  is  Pa's  miller.  He  has  been  there 
twenty  years,  I  think  Pa  said.  I  'm  sure  it  was  long  before 


134  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

I  was  born.     They  are  very  respectable  people,  and  it  'i 
nicer  there  than  to  board  at '  The  Buck.' " 

I  was  about  to  reply  that  the  choice  of  the  directors 
must  be  made  before  I  could  engage  board  anywhere,  when 
she  interrupted  me  with,  "  Oh,  there  's  Pa's  carriage  just 
turning  the  corner.  Excuse  me ! "  and  walked  from  the 
room  with  a  swift,  graceful  step. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  heard  a  heavy  foot,  followed  by  a 
rustling,  along  the  veranda,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Septimus 
Bratton  entered  the  room.  The  former  greeted  me  with 
stately  cordiality.  "  I  see,"  said  he,  "  that  you  have  already 
made  my  daughter's  acquaintance.  My  dear,  this  is  Mr. 
Godfrey,  whom  /  have  recommended  as  our  teacher  this 
winter." 

Mrs.  Bratton,  a  sharp-featured  little  woman,  swathed  in 
an  immense  white  crape  shawl,  advanced  and  gave  me  her 
hand.  "  How  d'  ye  do,  sir?"  she  piped,  in  a  shrill  voice; 
"  hope  you  've  not  been  kept  long  a-waiting  ?  " 

Then  she  and  the  daughter  retired,  and  Mr.  Bratton 
flung  his  hat  upon  the  table  and  sat  down.  "I  guess 
there  '11  be  no  difficulty  to-morrow,"  he  remarked ;  "  I  've 
seen  Bailey,  one  of  the  directors,  and  he  's  willing  to  abide 
by  Me.  As  for  Carter,  he  thinks  something  of  his  learn- 
ing, and  always  has  a  few  questions  to  ask  ;  but  we  had  a 
poor  shoat  last  winter,  of  his  choosing,  and  so  you  '11  have 
the  better  chance.  You  '11  board  at  Yule's,  but  you  may  as 
well  stay  here  till  to-morrow,  after  we  meet.  'T  is  n't  good 
luck  to  give  a  baby  its  name  before  it 's  christened.  You 
can  send  up  to  Cardiff  for  your  things  when  the  matter  is 
settled." 

We  were  presently  summoned  to  the  early  tea-table  of 
the  country.  When  Mrs.  Bratton  was  about  to  take  hei 
seat,  her  daughter  murmured  —  oh,  so  musically  !  —  "  Let 
me  pour  out,  Ma  —  you  must  be  tired." 

"  Well,  have  your  own  way,  'Manda,"  said  the  mother 
"  you  '11  be  getting  your  hand  in,  betimes." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.         18i 

I  w&s  first  served,  the  lovely  Amanda  kindly  asking  me 
u  Shall  I  season  your  tea  for  you,  Mr.  Godfrey  ?  " 

It  was  the  sweetest  cup  I  had  ever  tasted. 

"  Where  's  Sep  ?  "  suddenly  asked  Mr.  Bratton. 

"  I  've  sent  out  to  the  barn  and  down  to  the  mill,  but 
they  don't  seem  to  find  him,"  his  wife  remarked. 

"  I  '11  go  to  4  The  Buck,'  then ;  but  I  won't  go  much 
oftener." 

I  saw  wife  and  daughter  suddenly  glance  at  him,  and  he 
said  no  more.  But  he  was  hi  a  visible  ill-humor.  There 
was  a  lack  of  lively  conversation  during  the  evening,  yet  to 
jie  the  time  passed  delightfully.  Miss  Bratton,  I  discov- 
ered, had  just  returned  from  the  celebrated  School  for 
Young  Ladies  at  Bethlehem,  and  was  considered,  in  Upper 
Samaria,  as  a  model  of  female  accomplishment.  She  had 
learned  to  write  Italian  hand,  to  paint  tulips  and  roses  on 
white  velvet,  to  make  wax-flowers,  and  even  to  play  the 
piano ;  and  an  instrument  ordered  by  her  father,  at  the  im- 
mense price  of  two  hundred  dollars,  was  then  on  its  way 
from  Philadelphia.  These  particulars  I  learned  afterwards 
from  Mrs.  Yule.  During  that  evening,  however,  I  saw  and 
admired  the  brilliant  bouquets  in  mahogany  frames  which 
adorned  the  parlor-walls. 

At  nine  o'clock,  Mr.  Bratton,  who  had  already  several 
times  yawned  with  a  loud,  bellowing  noise,  rose,  took  a  candle, 
and  showed  me  to  a  large  and  very  gorgeous  chamber.  The 
bedstead  had  pillars  of  carved  mahogany,  supporting  a  can- 
opy with  curtains,  and  I  sank  into  the  huge  mass  of  feath- 
ers as  into  a  sun-warmed  cloud.  I  stretched  myself  out  in 
all  directions,  with  the  luxurious  certainty  of  not  encounter- 
jig  Bolty  Himpel's  legs,  composed  my  mind  to  an  unspoken 
prayer,  and  floated  into  dreams  where  Aunt  Peggy  and 
Miss  Amanda  Bratton  had  provokingly  changed  voices. 

The  next  morning,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  directors  met  at 
the  school-house.  Mr.  Bratton,  who  had  charge  of  the  key. 
opened  the  shutters  and  let  out  the  peculiar  musty  smell 


136  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

suggestive  of  mould,  bread  and  butter,  and  greasy  spelling' 
books,  which  had  accumulated.  He  then  took  his  seat  at 
the  master's  desk,  and  laid  the  proposal  before  Messrs. 
Bailey  and  Carter.  He  read  Dr.  Dymond's  letter  of  rec- 
ommendation, and  finished  by  saying,  "  Mr.  Godfrey,  I  be- 
lieve, is  ready  for  any  examination  you  may  wish  to  make.': 

Mr.  Bailey  remarked,  in  a  sleepy  voice,  "  I  guess  that  '11 
do  ; "  but  Mr.  Carter,  a  wiry,  nervous  little  man,  pricked 
up  his  ears,  stroked  his  chin,  and  said,  "  I  've  got  a  few 
questions  to  put.  Spell  '  inooendo.'  " 

I  spelled  in  succession  the  words  "  innuendo,"  "  exhila- 
rate," "  peddler,"  and  "  pony,"  to  the  gentleman's  satisfac- 
tion, and  gave,  moreover,  the  case  of  the  noun  ';  disobe- 
dience," in  the  first  line  of  "  Paradise  Lost,"  and  the  verb 
which  governed  it.  Then  I  calculated  the  number  of 
boards  ten  feet  long,  thirteen  inches  wide,  and  one  inch 
thick,  which  could  be  sawed  out  of  a  pine  log  three  feet  in 
diameter  and  seventy  feet  long ;  then  the  value  of  a  hun- 
dred dollars,  at  compound  interest,  six  per  cent,  for  twenty 
years ;  and,  finally,  the  length  of  time  it  would  take  a  man 
to  walk  a  mile,  supposing  he  made  ten  steps,  two  feet  long, 
in  a  minute,  and  for  every  two  steps  forward  took  one  step, 
one  foot  long,  backwards.  I  think  Mr.  Carter  would  have 
been  vexed  if  I  had  not  made  a  mistake  of  three  cents  on 
the  compound  interest  question.  Furthermore,  I  wrote  on 
a  sheet  of  paper,  "  Avoid  haughtiness  of  behavior  and  affec- 
tation of  manners"  as  a  specimen  of  my  penmanship,  and 
read  aloud  parts  of  a  speech  of  Patrick  Henry,  from  the 
"  Columbian  Orator."  Geography  and  the  various  branches 
of  natural  philosophy  were  passed  over  in  silence,  and  I 
was  a  little  surprised  that  the  fact  of  my  never  having 
{aught  school  before  was  not  brought  forward  in  objection. 
After  Mr.  Carter  had  exhausted  his  budget  of  questions,  I 
was  requested  to  step  outside  for  a  few  minutes  while  th« 
directors  consulted. 

When  Mr.  Bratton  called  me,  I  saw  by  his  slightly  in- 


.OHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  13< 

creased  pomposity  that  I  was  accepted.  His  choice  waa 
confirmed  ;  and  as  the  "  poor  shoat"  of  the  previous  win 
ter  had  been  taken  on  Carter's  recommendation,  it  was 
now  my  patron's  turn  to  triumph.  My  salary  was  fixed 
at  twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  and  I  was  gratified  to  find 
that  my  board  and  washing  at  Yule's  would  cost  me  but  a 
dollar  and  a  half  per  week.  This  secured  me  the  prospect 
of  a  capital  of  some  fifty  or  sixty  dollars  in  the  spring. 

Mr.  Bratton  completed  his  patronage  by  presenting  me 
to  the  Yule  family.  The  plain,  honest  face  of  the  old  miller 
made  a  fatherly  impression  upon  me,  and  Mrs.  Yule,  a 
bustling,  talkative  woman,  —  a  chronicle  of  all  the  past  and 
present  gossip  of  the  neighborhood.  —  accepted  me  as  a 
predestined  member  of  the  family.  She  had  already  put 
"  the  master's  room  "  in  order,  she  said  ;  it  never  went  by 
any  other  name  in  the  house,  and  she  allowed  a  fire  in  cold 
weather,  only  ••  the  master "  always  carried  up  his  own 
wood,  and  kindled  it.  and  raked  the  ashes  carefully  before 
going  to  bed  :  and  Daniel  was  going  to  Cardiff  that  very 
night  for  the  paper,  and  he  should  take  the  light  cart  and 
bring  my  trunk,  —  so  I  could  stop  then  and  there,  while  I 
was  about  it  Which  I  did. 

"  Daniel  "  was  the  older  son,  —  a  tall,  lusty  fellow  of 
twenty-four.  There  was  a  younger,  Isaac,  about  my  own 
age,  and  a  daughter,  Susan,  between  the  two.  I  met  the 
whole  family  at  dinner,  and,  before  the  meal  was  over,  fell 
that  I  was  fast  becoming  an  Upper  Samaritan. 


138  JOHN   GODFREYS  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  XL 

CONTAINING    BRATTON'S    PARTY   AND   THE    EPISODE    01 
THE   LIME-KILN. 

WHEN  I  opened  school  on  Monday  morning,  I  had  some 
twenty  pupils,  mostly  the  younger  children  of  the  neighbor- 
ing farmers.  The  late  autumn  was  unusually  clear  and 
mild,  and  the  larger  boys  were  still  needed  in  the  fields.  I 
was  glad  of  this  chance,  as  it  enabled  me  the  more  easily  to 
get  the  machinery  of  the  school  in  motion  and  familiarize 
myself  with  my  duties.  I  recollected  enough  of  GUI  com- 
mencement-days at  the  Cross- Keys  to  form  my  pupils  into 
classes  and  arrange  the  order  of  exercises.  So  far  as  the 
giving  of  instruction  was  concerned,  I  had  no  misgivings, 
but  I  feared  the  natural  and  universal  rebellion  of  children 
against  rules  which  impose  quiet  and  application  of  mind. 
Accordingly,  I  took  the  master's  seat  at  my  desk  on  a  small 
raised  platform,  with  stern  gravity  of  countenance,  and  in- 
stantly checked  the  least  tendency  to  whisper  or  giggle 
among  my  subjects.  The  process  was  exhausting,  and  I 
should  like  to  know  which  side  felt  the  greatest  relief  when 
the  first  day  came  to  an  end. 

In  a  short  time,  however,  as  I  came  to  know  the  faces 
and  dispositions  of  the  children,  I  found  it  necessary  to  re 
lax  something  of  this  assumed  strictness.  Dr.  Dymond's 
method,  which  I  had  found  so  pleasant,  seemed  to  me  bet- 
ter adapted  to  their  needs,  also,  and  I  frequently  interrupted 
the  regular  sequence  of  the  lessons  in  order  to  communicate 
general  intelligence,  especially  of  a  geographical  or  histor- 
ical character,  wherein  they  were  all  lamentably  deficient 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  13( 

f  had  a  great  liking  for  oral  narrative,  and  perhaps  some 
talent  in  constructing  it,  for  I  always  found  these  breaks 
more  efficient  to  preserve  order  than  my  sternest  scolding. 

I  soon  saw  that  the  children  enjoyed  my  method  ol  in- 
struction. Many  a  bell-flower  and  fall  pippin  was  laid  upon 
my  desk  in  the  morning,  and  some  of  the  girls,  noticing 
that  I  gathered  gentians  and  late  asters  in  the  meadow.' 
during  their  nooning,  brought  me  bunches  of  chrysanthe- 
mums from  their  mothers'  flower-beds.  I  should  have  soon 
found  my  place  insupportable,  had  I  been  surrounded  by 
hostile  hearts,  children's  though  they  were,  and  was  there- 
fore made  happy  by  seeing  that  my  secret  favorites  returned 
my  affection  in  their  own  shy  way.  Mrs.  Yule,  who  had  a 
magnetic  ear  for  hearing  everything  that  was  said  within  a 
radius  of  two  miles,  informed  me  that  I  was  much  better 
liked  by  the  pupils  than  last  winter's  master,  though  some 
of  the  parents  thought  that  I  told  them  too  many  "  fancy 
things." 

This  was  the  sunny  side  of  the  business,  so  far  as  it  had 
one.  On  the  other  hand  I  grew  weary  to  death  of  enlight- 
ening the  stupidity  of  some  of  the  boys,  and  disgusted  with 
their  primitive  habits.  I  shuddered  when  I  was  obliged  to 
touch  their  dirty,  sprawling,  warty  hands,  or  when  my  eyes 
fell  upon  the  glazed  streaks  on  their  sleeves.  They  sur- 
rounded me  with  unwashed  smells,  and  scratched  their 
heads  more  than  was  pleasant  to  behold.  Physical  beauty 
was  scarce  imong  them,  and  natural  refinement,  in  any  sen- 
sible degree,  entirely  absent.  A  few  had  frank,  warm 
hearts,  and  hints  of  undeveloped  nobility  in  their  natures, 
but  coarseness  and  selfishness  were  predominant.  My  ex- 
perience convinced  me  that  I  should  never  become  a  bene- 
factor of  the  human  race.  It  was  not  the  moral  sentiment 
in  the  abstract,  but  that  of  certain  individuals,  which  in 
spired  me  with  interest. 

My  home  at  the  white  house  behind  the  willows  was  a 
very  agreeable  one.  There  was  a  grand  old  kitchen,  paved 


140  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

with  flag-stones,  and  with  a  chimney  large  enough  to  2011 
tain  a  high-backed  wooden  settle,  on  either  side  of  the  fire. 
Here  the  old  miller  and  Dan  smoked  their  pipes  after  sup- 
per, while  Mrs.  Yule  and  Susan  pared  apples,  or  set  tl,» 
bread  to  rise,  or  mixed  buckwheat-batter  for  next  uiori 
ing's  cakes.  I  could  place  my  tallow-candle  in  a  little  niche, 
or  pocket,  of  the  jamb,  and  read  undisturbed,  until  SOUK 
quaint  lore  of  the  neighborhood  drew  me  from  the  book 
The  windows  of  my  room  in  the  southeastern  corner  of  the 
house  were  wrapped  about  with  the  trailing  willow-boughs  , 
but,  as  their  leaves  began  to  fall,  I  discovered  that  I  should 
have  a  fine  winter  view  down  the  valley. 

The  miller  was  one  of  those  quiet,  unmarked  natures. 
which,  like  certain  grays  in  painting,  are  agreeable  through 
their  very  lack  of  positive  character.  He  suggested  health 
—  nothing  else  ;  and  his  son  Dan  was  made  in  his  likem •>>. 
I  did  not  know,  then,  why  I  liked  Dan,  but  I  suspect  now 
it  must  have  been  because  he  had  not  an  over-sensitive 
nerve  in  his  body.  His  satisfied  repose  was  the  farthest 
vibration  from  my  restless,  excitable  temperament  Susan 
was  a  bright,  cheerful,  self-possessed  girl,  in  whose  presence 
the  shyest  youth  would  have  felt  at  ease.  She  was  not  cul- 
tivated, but  neither  was  she  ashamed  of  her  ignorance. 
Her  only  aesthetic  taste  was  for  flowers  ;  there  were  no  such 
pot  gillyflowers  and  geraniums  as  hers  in  all  Upper  Sama- 
ria. She  sewed  buttons  on  my  shirts  and  darned  the  heels 
of  my  stockings  before  my  very  eyes.  It  was  rumored  that 
she  was  engaged  to  Ben  Hannaford,  a  young  farmer  over 
the  hill  to  the  north  ;  but  she  spoke  of  him  in  so  straight- 
forward and  unembarrassed  a  way  that  I  judged  it  could 
not  be  possible.  Still,  it  was  a  fact  that  a  fire  was  made  in 
the  best  sitting-room  every  Sunday  night,  and  that  both 
Ben  and  Susan  somehow  disappeared  from  the  kitchen. 

The  ways  of  the  neighborhood  were  exceedingly  social. 
There  were  frequent  "gatherings"  ("getherin's  "  was  the 
popular  term)  of  the  younger  people,  generally  on  Saturday 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  141 

evenings.  The  first  which  I  attended  was  given  by  Miss 
Amanda  Bratton,  about  three  weeks  after  my  arrival.  The 
impulse  thereto  was  furnished,  I  imagine,  by  the  arrival  of 
the  new  piano  from  Philadelphia.  Everybody  on  the  main 
road,  from  Carterstown  up  to  the  Buck  Tavern,  had  seen 
the  wagon  with  the  great  box  lying  on  trusses  of  straw,  as 
it  passed  along,  and  the  news  had  gone  far  to  right  and  left 
before  it  was  announced  that  "  Squire  Bratton's  "  house 
would  be  open.  Pianos  were  not  common  in  Upper  Sa- 
maria ;  indeed  there  were  none  nearer  than  Carterstown, 
and  the  young  men  and  women  were  unaccustomed  to 
other  music  than  the  flute  and  violin.  Miss  Amanda,  on 
her  father's  hint,  was  profuse  in  her  invitations  ;  he  knew 
that  the  party  would  be  much  talked  about,  both  before 
and  after  its  occurrence. 

I  walked  over  with  Dan  and  Susan  Yule,  at  dusk,  and 
found  the  company  already  arriving.  The  hall-door  was 
open,  and  we  were  received  at  the  entrance  to  the  parlor  by 
Miss  Amanda,  who  looked  lovely  in  a  pale-violet  silk.  She 
gave  me  her  hand  with  the  composure  of  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, and  I  took  it  with  a  thrill  of  foolish  happiness. 

"  He  's  not  come  yet,  Sue,"  said  she.  "  Mr.  Godfrey,  let 
me  introduce  you  to  the  gentlemen." 

I  was  presented  to  five  or  six  sturdy  fellows,  each  of 
whom  gave  me  a  tremendous  grip  of  a  large,  hard  hand,  and 
then  sat  down  in  silence.  They  were  ranged  along  one  side 
of  the  parlor-wall,  while  the  ladies  formed  a  row  on  the  op- 
posite side,  occasionally  whispering  to  each  other  below 
their  breath.  I  took  my  seat  at  one  end  of  the  male  col- 
umn, and  entered  into  conversation  with  my  neighbor,  which 
he  accepted  in  a  friendly  and  subdued  manner.  No  one,  I 
think,  quite  ventured  to  use  his  natural  volume  of  voice  ex- 
cept young  Septimus,  or  Sep  Bratton.  who  (lodged  back 
and  forth  with  loud  explosions  of  shallow  wit  and  unjustifi- 
able laughter.  Many  eyes  were  directed  to  the  piano,  which 
stood  open  at  the  end  of  the  room,  and  it  was  evident  tha' 


142  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

the  tone  of  the  company  would  be  solemn  expectation  until 
the  instrument  had  been  heard. 

Squire  Bratton,  in  a  high  stock  and  sharp,  standing  col- 
lar, moved  majestically  about,  greeting  each  fresh  arrival 
with  a  mixture  of  urbanity  and  condescension.  When  all 
the  chairs  which  could  be  comfortably  placed  were  filled 
and  the  gentlemen  were  obliged  to  stand,  the  company 
began  to  break  into  groups  and  grow  more  animated. 
Then  Miss  Amanda  was  importuned  to  play. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  really  afraid,  before  so  many  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  modesty  which  charmed  me  ;  "  besides,  the  piano  is 
hardly  fit  to  be  played  on,  is  it,  Pa  ?  " 

"  Hm  —  well,"  said  her  father,  "  I  believe  it  is  a  little 
out  of  chime,  from  being  jolted  on  the  road,  but  I  guess  our 
friends  would  make  allowance  for  that" 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  "  We  sha'n't  notice  it !  "  eagerly  burst  from 
a  dozen  voices. 

After  some  further  solicitation,  Miss  Amanda  took  her 
seat,  and  a  breathless  silence  filled  the  room.  She  struck 
two  or  three  chords,  then  suddenly  ceased,  saying,  "  Oh,  I 
can't !  I  shall  shock  you  ;  the  G  is  so  flat !  " 

"  Go  on  ! "  "  It 's  splendid !  "  and  various  other  encour- 
aging cries  ajrain  arose. 

I  happened  to  be  standing  near  the  piano,  and  she 
caught  my  eye,  expressing  its  share  of  the  general  expect- 
ancy. 

"  Must  I,  indeed,  Mr.  Godfrey  ? "  she  asked,  in  a  help- 
less, appealing  tone.  "  What  shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  Tour  favorite  air,  Miss  Bratton,"  I  answered. 

She  turned  to  the  keys  again,  and,  after  a  short  prelude, 
played  the  Druids'  March  from  "  Norma,"  boldly  and  with 
a  strongly  accented  rhythm.  I  was  astonished  at  the  deli- 
cacy of  her  ear,  for  I  should  not  have  known  but  that  the 
instrument  was  in  very  good  tune. 

When  she  had  finished,  the  expressions  of  delight  were 
loud  and  long,  and  "  more  "  was  imperiously  demanded 
coupled  with  a  request  for  a  song. 


JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  14? 

This  time  she  gave  us  "  Oh,  come  o'er  the  Moonlit 
Sea,  Love,"  and  "  The  Dream  is  Past "  ;  and  I  knew  not 
which  most  to  admire,  —  the  airy,  dancing,  tinkling  brill- 
iancy of  the  first,  or  the  passion  and  sorrow  of  the  second. 
No  one,  I  thought,  could  sing  that  song  without  feeling  the 
words  in  their  tragic  intensity  :  Miss  Bratton  must  have  a 
heart  like  Zuleika  or  Gulnare. 

I  believe  I  made  a  good  appearance,  as  contrasted  with 
the  other  young  men  present.  I  had  fastened  my  cravat 
with  a  small  coral  pin  which  had  belonged  to  my  mother, 
and  this  constituted  a  distinguishing  mark  which  drew 

o  o 

many  eyes  upon  me.  Little  by  little,  I  was  introduced  to 
all  the  company,  and  was  drawn  into  the  lively  chatter 
which,  in  such  communities,  takes  the  place  of  wit  and 
sentiment.  Among  others,  Susan  Yule  presented  me  to 
Miss  Verbena  Cuff,  a  plump,  rattling  girl,  who  was  not 
afraid  to  poke  a  fellow  in  the  ribs  with  her  forefinger,  and 
say.  "  Oh,  go  'long,  now  !  "  when  anything  funny  was  said. 
She  had  the  fullest,  ripest  lips,  the  largest  and  whitest 
teeth,  and  the  roundest  chin,  of  any  girl  there. 

After  the  refreshments  —  consisting  of  lemonade,  new 
cider,  and  four  kinds  of  cakes  —  were  handed  around,  we 
all  became  entirely  merry  and  unconstrained.  I  had  never 
before  "  assisted  "  at  a  party  of  the  kind,  except  as  a  juve- 
nile spectator,  and  my  enjoyment  was  therefore  immense. 
Nothing  more  was  needed  to  convince  me  that  I  was  a  full- 
grown  man.  Whenever  I  put  my  hand  to  my  chin  I  was 
conscious  of  a  delightful,  sand-papery  feeling,  which  showed 
that  the  down  I  so  carefully  scraped  off  was  beginning  to 
icquire  strength,  and  would  soon  display  masculine  sub- 
stance and  color.  My  freckles  were  all  gone,  and,  as 
Neighbor  Niles  had  always  prophesied,  left  a  smooth,  fair 
skin  behind  them.  I  was  greatly  delighted  on  hearing  one 
of  the  girls  whisper,  "  He  's  quite  good-looking."  Of  course 
she  referred  to  me. 

Miss  Amanda's  album,  gilt-edged  and  gorgeously  bound 


144  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

in  red  morocco,  lay  upon  a  side-table  under  the  mirror.  1 
picked  it  up  and  looked  over  its  contents,  in  company 
with  Miss  Verbena  Cuff.  The  leaves  were  softly  tinted 
with  pink,  green,  buff,  and  blue,  and  there  were  both  steel 
engravings  and  bunches  of  flowers  lithographed  in  colors. 
Miss  Verbena  stayed  my  hand  at  one  of  the  pictures,  rep- 
resenting a  youth  in  Glengarry  bonnet  and  knee-breeches, 
with  one  arm  round  a  maiden,  whose  waist  came  just  un- 
der her  shoulders,  while  he  waved  the  other  arm  over  a 
wheat-field.  In  the  air  above  them  two  large  birds  were 
flying. 

The  title  of  the  picture  was,  -Now  Westlin'  Win's." 

••  Mr.  Godfrey,"  said  Miss  Verbena,  "  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  what  this  picture  means  ;  she  won't.  /  say  •  Westlin' ' 
is  the  name  of  one  o'  the  birds ;  they  're  flyin'  a  race,  and 
he  thinks  '  Westlin' '  will  win  it  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

I  looked  up,  and  saw  that  "  she  "  was  standing  near  us, 
listening.  I  smiled  significantly,  with  a  side-glance  at  Miss 
Verbena.  My  smile  was  returned,  yet  with  an  expression 
of  tender  deprecation,  which  I  interpreted  as  saying. 
"  Don't  expose  her  ignorance."  I  accordingly  answered, 
with  horrid  hypocrisy,  — 

"  You  may  be  right,  Miss  Cuff.  I  never  saw  the  picture 
before."  Again  we  exchanged  delicious  glances. 

I  turned  over  the  leaves,  and  presently  stumbled  on  the 
name  of  "  Susan  Yule."  She  had  written  — 

"  Oh,  Amanda,  when  I    in  tar  awav, 

To  taste  the  scenes  of  other  climes, 
And  when  fond  Memory  claims  its  swaj, 

Ami  tells  thee  then  of  happier  times, — 
Oh,  let  a  Tear  of  Sorrow  blend 
With  memory  of  thy  absent  Friend." 

I  was  greatly  diverted  with  the  idea  of  good,  plain, 
simple-hearted  Susan  Yule,  whose  thoughts  never  crossed 
the  township-line  of  Upper  Samaria,  going  away  to  taste 
the  scenes  of  other  climes,  but  I  did  my  best,  for  her  sake 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTCNES.  145 

to  preserve  a  serious  countenance.  I  was  rather  surprised 
to  find,  on  looking  further,  that  both  Mattie  McElroy  and 
Jemima  Ann  Hutchins  had  written  precisely  the  same 
lines. 

••  Why,"  I  exclaimed,  '•  here  it  is  again  !  I  thought  tin 
verse  was  original,  There  must  he  a  great  scarcity  ol' 
album  poetry,  Miss  Hratton." 

"  Ye-e-es,"  she  answered,  in  a  gentle  drawl.  "  We  ;i  i ! 
found  it  so  at  school.  I  'm  sure  I  went  over  the  '  Elegant 
Extracts '  ever  so  many  times,  but  there  was  so  little  that 
would  suit.  I  think  it  's  so  much  nicer  to  have  original 
poetry  !  don't  you  ?  " 

I  assented  most  enthusiastically. 

"  Perhaps  you  write  poetry,  Mr.  Godfrey  ? "  she  con- 
tinued. 

I  blushed  and  stammered,  longing,  yet  shy  to  confess 
the  blissful  truth. 

"  He,  he  !  "  giggled  Miss  Verbena  Cuff,  giving  me  a 
poke  with  her  forefinger ;  "  he  does  !  he  does !  I  '11  bet 
anything  on  it.  Make  him  write  something  in  your  book. 
'Manda !  " 

"  Won't  you  ?  "  murmured  Miss  Amanda,  fixing  her  soft, 
pale  eyes  full  upon  mine. 

I  blushed  all  over,  this  time.  The  red  flushed  my  skin 
down  to  my  very  toes.  My  eyelids  fell  before  the  angelic 
gaze,  and  I  muttered  something  about  being  very  happy, 
and  I  would  try,  but  I  was  afraid  she  would  n't  be  satisfied 
with  it  afterwards. 

"  But  it  must  be  right  out  of  your  own  head,  mind.' 
Miss  Cuff  insisted. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Miss  Bratton,  with  slight  but  very  be- 
coming hauteur. 

"  And  then  ynu  must  write  something  for  me.  We  won' 
say  anything  about  it  to  the  other  girls,  'Manda,  till  they  're 
finished." 

I  was  n't  very  well  pleased  with  this  proposition,  and  it 
10 


146  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

seemed  to  me,  also,  that  the  merest  gossamer  of  a  shade 
flitted  across  Miss  Bratton's  smooth  brow.  Still,  it  was 
impossible  to  refuse,  and  I  endeavored  to  promise  with  a 
good  grace. 

•'  Mine  has  the  language  of  flowers,"  said  Verbena ;  "  I  'm 
so  sorry  that  the  Rose  is  already  writ  I  'd  have  liked  you 
to  take  that.  There  's  Pink  and  Honeysuckle  left,  and 
something  else  that  I  disremember.  I  '11  show  you  the 
book  first" 

Later  in  the  evening  it  happened  that  Miss  Bratton  and 
I  came  together  again,  with  nobody  very  near  us.  I  made 
instant  use  of  the  opportunity,  to  confirm  the  confidential 
relation  which  I  imagined  was  already  established  between 
•is.  "  I  understood  you,"  I  said ;  "  did  you  ever  hear  such 
an  absurd  idea  as  she  had  ?  " 

She  was  evidently  puzzled,  but  not  startled.  Nothing, 
in  fact,  seemed  to  agitate  her  serene,  self-poised,  maidenly 
nature.  "  Oh,  the  picture  ?  "  she  said,  at  last ;  "  very  ab- 
surd, indeed." 

"  You  know  the  poem,  of  course  ?  "  I  continued. 

"  Yes,"  (slightly  smiling,)  '•  I  read  it,  long  ago,  but  I  've 
forgotten  how  it  goes.  Won't  you  write  it  down  for  me  ?  " 

I  assented  at  once,  though  to  do  so  implied  the  purchase 
of  a  copy  of  Burns,  which  I  did  not  possess.  How  grate- 
ful it  was  to  find  one  in  that  material  crowd  who  knew  and 
reverenced  the  immortal  bards  among  whom  I  hoped  to 
inscribe  my  name  ! 

"  I  '11  bring  it  over  to  you,  some  evening ! "  I  exclaimed. 

She  smiled  sweetly,  but  said  nothing. 

•'  I  am  so  glad  you  are  fond  of  poetry  !  Do  you  ever  see 
the  Saturday  Evening  Post  f  " 

"  Yes  ;  Pa  takes  it  for  me.  There  are  such  sweet  poems 
in  it,  —  and  the  tales,  too  ! " 

Here  we  were  interrupted,  but  I  had  heard  enough  to 
turn  my  head.  She  had  certainly  read  "  The  Unknown 
Bard  "  and  all  the  other  productions  of  "  Selim  "  !  Thej 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  147 

were  among  the  poems,  and,  of  course,  they  too  were 
•'  sweet" 

The  party  broke  up  at  midnight,  and  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  escorting  Miss  Verbena  Cuff  across  the  stream  to  Yule's 
Mill,  where  her  brother  Tom  had  left  his  horse  and  vehicle 
We  started  with  Dan  and  Susan  Yule,  but  had  scarcely 
left  Bratton's  veranda,  before  Miss  Verbena  took  my  arm 
and  whispered,  "  Let 's  hang  back  a  little  ;  I  want  to  tell 
you  something." 

I  hung  back,  as  desired,  and  we  were  soon  alone  under 
the  dark,  starry  sky.  I  was  wrapped  in  dreams  of  Miss 
Amanda  Bratton,  the  touch  of  whose  slender  fingers  still 
burned  on  my  right  palm.  Hence  I  did  not  manifest  the 
curiosity  which  my  companion  no  doubt  awaited,  for  after 
walking  a  few  rods  in  silence,  she  said,  giving  me  a  jog 
of  her  elbow,  — 

"  Well  —  what  do  you  think  it  is  ?  " 

Thus  admonished,  I  confessed  my  inability  to  guess. 

"  I  '11  tell  you,  but  don't  you  tell  nobody.  Tom 's  going 
to  set  the  last  kiln  a-burning,  Friday  morning,  and  there  T 
be  a  bully  blaze  by  Saturday  night.  You  know  our  house, 
don't  you  ?  —  stands  on  the  left,  a  mile  and  a  half  this  side 
of  Carterstown,  — stone,  with  brick  chimbleys,  and  the  barn 
t'  other  side  of  the  road :  you  can't  miss  it.  Now,  I  want 
you  to  come,  and  we  '11  have  some  fun.  There  won't  be 
many,  and  I  don't  want  it  to  get  out,  —  I  'd  rather  it  would 
seem  accidental  like.  We  had  a  getherin'  three  weeks 
ago,  but,  you  kiow,  when  the  kiln's  afire,  it  seems  to  'liven 
people  up.  Some  say,  the  more  the  merrier,  but  it  a'n't 
always  so." 

Here  she  gave  my  arm  an  interrogative  clutch ;  and  I. 
thinking  of  Milton's  "  fit  audience,  though  few,"  answered, 
u  No,  indeed.  Miss  Cuff;  it 's  also  true  that  the  fewer  the 
nearer  in  heart." 

•4  Then  you  '11  come  ?  You  11  be  sure  and  keep  youi 
word  ?  " 


148  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

I  had  not  yet  given  my  word,  but  the  prospect  of  a  select 
few  assembled  around  the  burning  lime-kiln  was  weird, 
poetic,  and  by  no  means  unwelcome.  Of  course  Amanda 
Bratton  would  be  one  of  the  few,  and  I  already  speculated 
how  wonderfully  her  calm  face  would  appear  in  the  blue 
gleam  of  the  fire,  against  a  background  of  night.  I  there- 
fore exclaimed,  — 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  delighted !  " 

"  And  you  won't  say  anything  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word  ! " 

"  Don't  even  tell  Yules.  I  like  Susan  very  much,  but 
her  fortune  's  made,  they  say,  and  I  only  want  them  that 
can  take  an  interest  in  each  other.  You  understand,  don't 
you  ?  " 

Again  I  felt  the  powerful  squeeze  of  her  arm,  and  invol- 
untarily returned  it.  She  hung  upon  and  leaned  against 
me  quite  alarmingly  after  that,  but  a  few  more  steps 
brought  us  around  the  mill  to  the  hitching-post  at  Yule's 
gate,  where  Tom  Cuff,  whip  in  hand,  stood  awaiting  her. 

"  It 's  late,  Sis,  and  we  must  be  off.  Finish  your  spark- 
in',  quick,"  he  growled,  in  a  coarse  voice. 

He  thereupon  turned  his  back,  and  Miss  Verbena,  giving 
me  her  hand,  looked  into  my  face  in  a  momentary  attitude 
of  expectation  which  I  did  not  understand.  She  jerked 
away  her  hand  again  rather  hastily,  whispered  —  "  Don'i 
forget  —  next  Saturday  night !  "  and  then  added,  aloud. 
"  Good  night,  Mr.  Godfrey  ! " 

"Good  night,  Miss  Cuff!"  I  replied,  and  they  dro\<> 
away  as  I  was  mounting  the  projecting  steps  in  the  stone 
wall. 

That  week  I  made  use  of  "  the  master's  "  privilege,  and 
beside  a  fire  in  my  bedroom,  devoted  myself  to  the  com 
position  of  a  poem  for  Miss  Bratton's  album.  I  wrote  four, 
and  was  then  uncertain  which  to  choose,  or  whether  any 
one  of  them  was  worthy  of  its  destined  place.  I  finally 
fixed  upon  one  entitled  "A  Parable,"  which  represented 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  14S 

A  wandering  bird  of  sweet  song  in  a  cold,  dark  forest  where 

o  o 

the  trees  paid  no  heed  to  his  lays.     But  just  as  he  was  be- 
coming silent  forever,  from  despair  of  a  listener,  he  saw  a 
lovely  (lower  lift  up  its  head,  open  the  lips  of  its  blushing 
petals,  and  ask  him  to  sing ;  so  he  built  his  nest  at  her  feet, 
and  piped  his  sweetest  song  in  the  fragrance  of  her  being. 
••  SJte  will  understand  it !  "  I  said  to  myself,  in  triumph 
"  and   to  the   obscure,   unpoetic  minds  around  her  it  will 
simply  be  a  bit  of  fancy.    What  a  godlike  art  is  the  Poet's !  " 
Then  I  sang,  to  a  tune  of  my  own  invention,  — 

"  Drink  to  her  who  long 

Has  waked  the  Poet's  sigh, 
The  girl  who  gave  to  song 

What  Gold  could  never  buy !  " 

Meanwhile,  the  week  drew  to  an  end.  and  as  Saturday 
afternoon  was  always  a  holiday  for  the  school,  I  had  ample 
time  to  prepare  myself  for  the  visit  to  Cuff's.  Inasmuch 
as  the  Yule  family  was  ignorant  of  the  proposed  calcareous 
party.  I  was  a  little  puzzled  how  to  get  away  without  being 
observed.  Also,  how  to  get  into  the  house,  if  I  should  not 
return  before  midnight.  I  made  up  my  mind,  at  last,  to 
inform  Dan.  upon  whose  silence  I  knew  I  could  rely.  I 
found  him  in  the  mill,  white  with  the  dust  of  floating  meal, 
and  the  hopper  made  such  a  clatter  that  I  was  forced  to 
put  my  mouth  to  his  ear,  and  half  scream  the  fact  that  1 
expected  to  be  away  from  home  in  the  evening.  He  nod- 
ded and  smiled,  remarking  the  sheepish  expression  of  my 
face.  and.  coming  close  to  me,  said,  "  Shall  I  leave  the 
back-entry  door  open  ?  " 

••  And  don't  say  anything  about  it,  please?"  I  added. 

Hie  simple  grin  was  as  good  as  anybody  else's  oath ;  so, 
completely  assured,  I  made  myself  ready  during  the  after- 
noon, in  every  respect  but  the  coat,  which  I  whipped  on 
after  supper.  Stealing  out  by  the  back  door,  I  jumped 
over  the  garden-wall  and  took  my  way  down  the  valley. 

It  was  a  sharp,  frosty  night  in  the  beginning  of  Decem 


150  uOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

her,  and  I  walked  briskly  forward,  busy  with  imaginary 
scenes  and  conversations,  in  which  Amanda  Bratton  had 
an  important  share.  It  was  a  habit  of  my  mind  —  and  still 
is  —  to  create  all  presumed  situations  in  advance,  and  pre- 
pare myself  for  the  part  I  expected  to  play  in  them.  1 
must  frankly  confess  to  the  reader,  however,  that  the  inter- 
ference of  some  avenging  Nemesis  always  darkens  this  vol- 
untary clairvoyance,  and  spoils  my  tags  and  cues.  Hence 
all  my  best  remarks  have  never  been  uttered,  my  most 
brilliant  humor  has  rusted  in  its  sheath,  and  with  undoubted 
capacity  to  sparkle  in  conversation  (if  the  occasions  would 
only  arise  as  I  project  them  in  advance),  I  have  never 
achieved  more  than  an  average  reputation  as  a  talker. 
How  my  anticipations  on  this  particular  evening  were  ful- 
filled, I  shall  now  proceed  to  relate. 

As  the  distance  to  Carte rstown  was  four  miles.  Cuff's 
house  and  lime-kiln  must  therefore  be  two  and  a  half  miles 
from  Yule's  Mill,  a  walk  of  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  1 
had  not  been  down  the  road  before,  but  I  supposed  that 
the  burning  kiln  would  be  as  a  banner  hung  out,  afar  off, 
to  guide  my  steps.  On  I  went,  passing  many  houses  on  one 
side  of  the  road,  with  their  barns  on  the  other,  but  no  blue 
blaze  showed  itself,  and  I  began  to  suspect  that  I  was  on 
the  wrong  road.  A  wide  stream,  coming  down  through  the 
hills  on  the  left,  arrested  my  way,  until  I  discovered  a  high 
log  and  hand-rail  on  one  side,  and  felt  my  way  over  in  the 
dark.  Just  beyond  this  stream  stood  another  house  on  the 
left,  on  a  bold  knoll,  through  which  the  road  was  cut  The 
shrubs  in  the  front  yard  rustled  darkly  over  the  top  of  a 
lofty  stone  Avail. 

As  I  approached  this  point,  a  huge  dog  sprang  down  from 
above  and  commenced  barking  furiously.  Having  no  means 
of  defence,  I  stood  still,  and  the  animal  planted  himself  in 
the  middle  of  the  road  as  if  determined  to  bar  my  advance 
Presently  I  heard  a  whistle  from  the  top  of  the  wall,  and  a 
stern  female  voice  exclaimed.  "  He  quiet,  Roger!" 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  151 

I  started.  It  was  surely  the  voice  of  Miss  Verbena  Cliff 
The  next  moment  she  herself  suddenly  appeared  in  th« 
road  at  my  side,  and  I  heard  a  whisper,  "  Is  it  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said ;  "  do  you  live  here  ?  I  was  afraid  I  should 
not  find  the  house." 

Taking  my  hand,  she  led  me  to  a  break  in  the  wall,  up 
which  ran  a  steep  flight  of  stone  steps.  When  I  had  gained 
the  top,  I  found  myself  on  the  knoll  in  front  of  the  house, 
and  saw  a  flickering  cone  of  blue  and  scarlet  fire  at  the 
foot  of  the  slope  beyond. 

"A'n't  that  a  blaze  ?  "  said  Miss  Verbena  ;  "  I  never  get 
tired  a-looking  at  it  It 's  Tom's  turn  to  tend  the  fire  to- 
night, so  he  won't  be  in  the  way.  Tom  's  rather  rough,  he 
is." 

" '  Men  scarcely  know  how  beautiful  fire  is,' "  I  said, 
quoting  Shelley.  "  It  looks  as  if  a  little  volcano  had  broken 
up  out  of  the  earth.  See,  that 's  the  crater,  at  the  top. 
Are  you  not  afraid  of  the  lava  bursting  out  ?  " 

"  Go  along,  you ! "  was  her  answer,  as  she  gave  me  a  poke 
in  the  ribs.  "  Come  in  the  side-door,  into  the  setting-room. 
I  did  n't  make  a  fire  in  the  parlor,  because  I  was  n't  quite 
sure  you  'd  come.  But  I  '11  bring  in  some  wood,  right  away, 
and  then  run  up-stairs  and  fix  myself  in  no  time." 

She  ushered  me  into  the  sitting-room,  which  was  dimly 
lighted  by  a  single  tallow-candle.  An  old  woman,  with  a 
curious  cap  and  no  upper  teeth,  sat  in  a  high-backed  rock- 
ing-chair, knitting.  She  must  have  been  very  deaf,  for 
Miss  Verbena  stooped  down  and  shouted  in  her  ear, "  Moth- 
er, this  is  Mr.  Godfrey,  the  schoolmaster  at  Yule's  Mill !  " 

The  old  woman  looked  at  me  with  a  silly  smile,  nodded, 
and  murmured  to  herself  as  she  resumed  her  knitting, 
u  Yes,  yes ;  young  people  will  be  young  people.  I  s'pose 
1  'm  in  the  way  now." 

In  a  few  minutes  she  rose  and  retired  to  the  kitchen,  and 
Miss  Verbena,  following  her.  soon  reappeared  with  an  arm- 
Ail  of  sticks  and  chips,  and  a  piece  of  candle  which  she 


1 62  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

managed  to  hold  between  two  of  her  fingers.  I  ought  lu 
have  gone  and  opened  the  parlor-door  for  her,  but  I  was 
struck  dumb  at  my  reception,  and  sat  like  a  fool  while  she 
pressed  down  the  handle  of  the  lock  with  her  elbow  and 
pushed  the  door  open  with  her  foot.  Good  heavens !  I 
thought,  what  does  it  all  mean  ?  There  is  nobody  else  here 
and  it  looks  as  if  nobody  was  expected  !  She  is  making  a 
fire  in  the  parlor  and  she  is  going  to  "  fix  herself  in  no 
time  "  —  only  for  me  ?  Why,  when  the  old  woman  goes 
into  the  kitchen,  and  the  big  brother  stays  at  the  lime-kiln, 
and  the  young  man  and  the  young  woman  sit  by  themselves 
in  the  best  parlor,  it 's  "  keeping  company  "  —  it  's  ''  court- 
ing"! 

Instead  of  trembling  with  delight,  I  shivered  with  fear 
Miss  Verbena  Cuff  was  no  longer  a  buxom,  rollicking  dam- 
sel, but  a  young  ogress,  who  had  lured  me  into  her  den  and 
would  tear  me  with  relentless  claws  until  I  purchased  my 
deliverance  with  sweet  words  and  caresses.  I  knew  that 
"courting"  implied  such  familiarities;  I  had  often  heard 
that  even  candles  were  not  necessary  to  its  performance ; 
and  in  my  boyish  ignorance  I  had  always  supposed  that  the 
sentiment  of  love,  upon  one  side  at  least,  must  precede  the 
custom.  I  did  not  know  that  in  many  parts  of  the  country 
it  was  a  common  expedient,  indifferently  practised,  to  de- 
termine whether  the  parties  were  likely  to  love  each  other. 
A  kiss  or  a  hug,  now  and  then,  was  not  looked  upon  as  a 
committal  of  the  heart  to  a  serious  attachment ;  such  things 
were  cheap  coins,  used  publicly  in  forfeits  and  other  games, 
and  might  be  exchanged  privately  without  loss  to  either'a 
emotional  property. 

No ;  I  was  haunted  by  a  softer  and  sweeter  image  than 
that  of  Verbena  Cuff,  —  a  pure,  ideal  flame,  which  her  lips, 
red  and  full  as  they  were,  seemed  pursed  to  blow  out 
Every  fibre  of  my  heart  tingled  and  trembled  with  alarm 

When  she  returned  from  the  parlor,  she  brought  hei 
album  and  gave  it  to  me.  The  back  was  covered  witb 


JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES  153 

green  and  brown  calico,  to  preserve  the  morocco  binding 
u  That 's  the  flower  I  could  n't  remember,"  said  she,  open 
ing  the  book  at  a  lithographed  ranunculus  ;  "  it  looks  just 
like  our  butter-ball  in  the  garden." 

On  turning  over  the  leaves,  my  eye  caught  the  name  of 
Amanda  Brattou.  Ah,  I  said  to  myself,  let  me  read  her 
selection .  It  commenced.  — 

'  Verbena,  when  I  'in  far  away,"  &c. 

"  What  exquisite  irony  !  "  I  thought  "  She  is  too  culti- 
vated to  cast  pearls  before  swine." 

All  at  once  Tom  Cuff  came  in,  with  a  black  jug  in  one 
hand.  lie  twisted  his  mouth  when  he  saw  me,  but  gave 
me  his  hand  and  said,  "  How  are  you,  Master  Godfrey  ?  " 

I  returned  his  greeting  with  a  dignified  air. 

"  Sis  !  "  he  called,  "  more  cider  !  It 's  mortal  hot  work, 
and  makes  a  fellow  dry.  Bring  Godfrey  a  swig,  while 
you  're  about  it." 

The  cider  was  soon  forthcoming,  and  so  sharp  and  hard 
that  it  made  me  wink.  Tom  took  up  his  jug  and  started, 
but  halted  at  the  door  and  said  to  me,  "  When  you  're  tired 
talking  to  Sis,  you  may  come  down  and  look  at  the  kiln. 
I  've  put  in  some  big  chunks,  and  it 's  burnin'  like  all  hell ! " 

"  I  '11  come  !  "  I  answered  ;  "  I  want  to  see  it" 

Here  was  a  chance  of  escape,  and  I  recovered  my  cour- 
age. I  informed  Miss  Verbena  that  I  would  write  some- 
thing for  her  which  would  suit  the  lily  of  the  valley.  I 
should  have  preferred  the  verbena,  but  I  saw  that  some- 
body had  been  before  me,  —  somebody.  I  added,  who  no 
doubt  had  a  better  right 

"  Oh,  go  along,  now !  shut  up !  it  a'n't  so ! "  cried  the 
energetic  maiden,  giving  me  a  poke  which  took  away  my 
breath. 

She  bustled  about  a  little  more,  arranging  some  house* 
hold  matters,  and  then  came  and  stood  before  me,  saying 

Now  I  'm  done  work  ;  don't  I  look  like  a  fright  ?  " 


154  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

"  No :  you  could  n't  do  that  if  you  were  to  try,"  I  gal 
lantly  answered. 

"  None  of  your  soft  soap  so  soon  in  the  evening ! "  she 
retorted.  "  Now  I  'm  going  up-stairs  to  fix.  You  'd  better 
sneak  into  the  parlor  ;  it 's  nice  and  warm." 

"  I  guess  I  '11  step  down  and  call  on  Tom.  I  want  to 
I  ave  a  look  at  the  kiln." 

"  Well  —  don't  stay  more  than  ten  minutes." 

This  I  promised,  solemnly  intending  to  keep  my  word. 
I  went  out  the  opposite  door,  opened  a  gate  in  the  paling, 
and  found  myself  in  a  sloping  field.  The  top  of  the  kiln 
glimmered  in  wreaths  of  colored  flame,  just  below. me.  and 
I  could  see  Tom's  brawny  form  moving  about  in  the  light 
which  streamed  from  the  mouth,  at  the  foot  of  the  knoll. 
I  walked  first  to  the  top,  inhaled  the  pungent  gas  which 
arose  from  the  calcining  stones,  and  meditated  how  I  should 
escape.  The  big  dog  had  followed  me,  and  was  walking 
about,  sniffing  suspiciously  and  occasionally  uttering  a  low 
growl.  To  quiet  him,  first  of  all,  I  went  down  to  Tom, 
took  a  pull  at  his  jug,  and  commented  on  the  grandeur  of 
the  fire. 

"  Yes,  it 's  good  now  for  half  an  hour,"  he  said.  "  I  'm 
agoin'  to  take  a  snooze.  You  'd  better  go  back  to  the 
house  —  Sis  '11  be  expectin'  you." 

" I  will  go  back"  I  answered. 

He  lay  down  on  a  warm  heap  of  sand  and  slaked  lime, 
and  I  climbed  again  to  the  burning  crest  of  the  kiln.  The 
big  dog  was  there  still !  but  I  saw  a  fence  before  me,  and 
knew  that  the  road  was  beyond.  I  walked  rapidly  away, 
and  had  my  hand  on  the  topmost  rail,  when  the  beast  gave 
a  howl  and  bounded  after  me.  Over  I  sprang,  and  started 
to  run,  but  I  had  totally  forgotten  that  the  road  had  been 
cut  into  the  side  of  the  knoll,  leaving  a  bank  some  fifteen 
or  twenty  feet  deep.  My  first  step,  therefore,  touched  ah 
instead  of  earth  :  over  and  over  I  went,  crashing  through 
briers  and  mullein-stalks,  and  loosening  stones,  which  rat- 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  155 

tied  after  me,  until  I  brought  up,  with  a  thundering  shock, 
in  the  gutter  below.  I  was  on  my  feet  in  an  instant,  and 
tearing  at  full  speed  past  the  wall  in  front  of  the  house,  on 
the  top  of  which  I  saw  the  dusky  outline  of  the  dog,  spring- 
ing towards  the  steps.  There  was  a  light  at  an  upper  win- 
dow, and  1  fancied  that  I  heard  the  sash  raised.  In  less 
time  than  it  has  taken  to  write  these  lines.  I  had  reached 
the  creek  and  splashed  through  it,  without  taking  time  to 
find  the  log.  The  water,  fortunately,  was  only  mid-leg 
deep.  Then  I  rushed  forward  again,  stopping  neither  to 
think  nor  take  breath,  until  the  fainter  barking  of  the  dog 
showed  that  he  had  given  up  the  chase. 

How  I  had  escaped  cuts,  bruises,  or  broken  bones  seemed 
a  miracle,  but  I  was  sound  in  every  limb.  I  cannot  now 
pretend  to  unravel  the  confusion  of  thought  in  which  I 
walked  slowly  homewards.  Was  my  fine-strung,  excitable 
nature  a  blessing  or  a  curse  ?  Had  I  acted  as  a  wise  man 
or  a  fool  ?  I  strongly  suspected  the  latter  ;  I  had,  at  least, 
betrayed  a  weakness  at  utter  variance  with  my  pretensions 
to  manhood,  and  which  would  render  it  impossible  for  me 
ever  again  to  meet  either  Verbena  or  Tom  CufF  without 
feeling  abashed  and  humiliated.  I  had  run  away,  like  a 
coward,  from  the  possibility  of  a  situation  which,  in  itself, 
would  ha\  e  been,  at  the  worst,  a  harmless  diversion  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  I  was  not  forced  to  bestow  the  kisses 
and  hugs  I  foreboded ;  a  little  self-possession  on  my  part 
was  all  that  was  necessary  to  give  the  visit  a  cool,  Platonic 
character,  and  I  should  have  carried  home  my  unprofantd 
ideal.  I  imagined  what  Dan  Yule  would  do  in  a  similar 
case,  and  admitted  to  myself  that  he  would  get  out  of  the 
scrape  in  a  much  more  sensible  way  than  I  had  done. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  aforementioned  ideal  was  flat- 
tered. I  had  saved  it  from  even  the  suspicion  of  danger, 
—  had  braved  ridicule,  worse  than  hostility,  for  the  sake  of 
keeping  it  pure  I  was  made  of  better  clay  than  the  men 
around  me,  and  ought  to  be  proud  of  it. 


1 50  JOHX  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

When  I  reached  home,  the  family  had  not  yet  gone  tc 
bed.  Nevertheless,  I  entered  by  the  back-entry  door, 
which  I  found  unlocked,  stole  to  my  room,  kindled  a  fire, 
and  changed  my  coat,  —  my  best  coat,  alas !  which  was 
much  soiled,  and  torn  in  two  or  three  places.  When  I  had 
become  composed,  I  went  down  to  the  kitchen,  on  the  pre- 
tence of  getting  a  glass  of  water,  but  in  reality  to  make  the 
family  suppose  that  I  had  been  spending  the  evening  in  my 
own  room. 

Dan  looked  at  me  with  a  very  queer  expression,  but  he 
asked  me  no  questions,  and  it  was  many  days  before  I  con- 
fided to  him  my  adventure. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER 


IH     WHICH     LOVE     AND      LITERATURE     STIMULATE     KiCH 
OTHER. 

IT  must  not  be  supposed  that  my  literary  ambition  had 
slumbered  during  all  this  time.  Some  four  or  five  of  my 
poems  had  been  published,  —  the  last  two,  to  my  great  sat- 
isfaction, without  editorial  correction  ;  and  moreover,  a 
story  of  the  Colonial  days,  entitled  "  The  Wizard  of  Per- 
kiomen,"  was  announced  as  accepted.  My  first  timidity  tc 
be  known  as  an  author  was  rapidly  wearing  away.  I  began 
to  wish  that  somebody  would  suspect  me  of  being  •'  Selim," 
but  alas  !  who  was  there  of  sufficient  taste  and  penetration 
to  make  the  discovery?  Would  not  Miss  Amanda  Bratton, 
at  least,  recognize  in  the  "  Parable  "  I  had  written  for  her 
album  the  same  strings  which  vibrated  in  the  "  Unknown 
Bard  ?  "  To  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  however,  I  at- 
tached to  the  next  poem  I  forwarded  to  Philadelphia,  after 
the  signature  of  "  Selim,"  the  local  address,  "  Yule's  Mill, 
Berks  County,  Pa."  This  would  settle  the  matter  for- 
ever. 

My  mind  the  more  easily  habituated  itself  to  literary  ex- 
pression from  the  isolation,  whether"  real  or  imagined,  in 
which  I  lived.  I  learned  to  confide  to  paper  the  thoughts 
which  I  judged  no  one  around  me  (except,  perhaps,  one 
whom  I  dared  not  approach)  was  worthy  to  share.  My 
treasures  accumulated  much  more  rapidly  than  I  could  dis- 
pose of  them  ;  but  I  looked  upon  them  as  so  much  availa- 
ble capital,  to  be  used  at  the  proper  time.  I  had  no  further 
doubt  of  my  true  vocation,  but  what  rank  I  should  attain  in 


153  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

It  was*  a  question  which  sometimes  troubled  me.  I  lacked 
patience  to  toil  for  years  in  obscurity,  looking  forward  to 
the  distant  day  when  recognition  must  come,  because  it  had 
been  fairly  earned.  My  energy  was  of  that  kind  which 
fags  without  immediate  praise. 

There  was  now,  as  the  reader  may  have  suspected,  an 
additional  spur  to  my  impatience.  My  heart  was  pitched 
*o  the  key  of  a  certain  sweet,  subdued,  even-toned  voice. 
I  was  jubilant  with  the  consciousness  that  the  one  passion 
which  is  not  only  permitted  to  authors,  but  is  considered 
actually  necessary  to  their  development,  had  come  at  last 
to  quicken  and  inspire  me.  It  was  a  vague,  misty,  delicious 
sensation,  scorning  to  be  put  into  tangible  form,  or  to  clothe 
its  yearnings  with  the  material  aspects  of  life.  There  was 
poison  in  the  thought  of  settlements,  income,  housekeeping 
details;  I  turned  away  with  an  inward  shudder,  if  such 
things  were  accidentally  suggested  to  my  mind.  My  love 
nourished  itself  upon  dew,  odors,  and  flute-like  melodies. 

I  took  the  album  back  to  Miss  Amanda  with  a  tremor 
of  mingled  doubt  and  hope.  She  read  the  lines  slowly. 
and  as  she  approached  the  bottom  of  the  page  I  turned 
away  my  eyes  and  waited,  with  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  for 
her  voice. 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  pretty ! "  she  said  ;  "  there  is  nothing  so 
nice  in  the  book.  You  do  write  beautifully,  Mr.  Godfrey. 
Have  you  composed  anything  for  Verbena  Cuff?" 

She  put  the  question  in  a  careless  way,  which  satisfied 
me  that  there  was  not  the  least  jealousy  or  selfishness  in 
her  nature.  So  far  as  my  hopes  were  concerned,  I  should 
have  been  better  satisfied  if  she  had  betrayed  a  slight 
tinge  of  the  former  emotion  ;  but,  on  after-reflection,  I  de- 
cided that  I  liked  her  all  the  better  for  the  unsuspicious 
truth  and  frankness  of  her  nature. 

"  I  could  n't  avoid  it,  you  know,  after  promising,"  I  said. 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  see  it." 

u  I  have  no  copy  with  me,"  I  replied ;  "  but  I  have  the 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  159 

lines  in  my  head.     I  wrote  them  for  the  lily  of  the  valley 
which,  you  know,  means  '  Humility  ' :  — 

"  *  My  dwelling  is  the  forest  shade, 

Beside  the  streamlet  wandering  free ; 
'T  is  there,  in  modest  green  arrayed, 
I  hide  my  blossoms  from  the  bee. 

" '  But  thou  dost  make  the  garden  fair, 

Where  noonday  sunbeams  round  thee  fall; 
How  should  the  shrinking  Lily  dare 
To  hear  the  gay  Verbena's  call? ' 

Yo»  notice  the  irony?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  after  a  pause.  "  It 's  a  shame." 
But  she  smiled  sweetly,  as  she  said  so. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know,"  I  cried,  in  transport,  —  "  you  don't 
know.  Miss  Bratton,  how  grateful  it  is  to  find  a  mind  that 
can  understand  you !  To  find  intelligence,  and  poetic  feel- 
ing, and  —  and  —  " 

I  paused,  not  knowing  how  to  make  the  climax. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  casting  down  her  eyes,  and  with  a 
mournful  inflection  of  voice  which  went  to  my  soul,  "  I  un- 
derstand it,  from  my  own  experience." 

What  more  I  should  have  said,  with  this  encouragement, 
I  know  not,  for  Mrs.  Bratton  put  her  head  into  the  room, 
announcing,  "  Tea,  'Manda.  Mr.  Godfrey,  will  you  set 
by?" 

This  was  one  of  her  peculiar  phrases,  which  would  have 
provoked  my  mirth,  had  she  not  been  the  mother  of  her 
daughter.  But,  as  she  was,  I  thought  it  quaint  and  origi- 
nal. Another  expression  was,  "  Take  off  some  o'  the  but- 
ter," or  whatever  dish  it  might  be.  I  accepted  the  invita- 
tion, although  my  pleasure  at  having  my  tea  •'  seasoned  " 
by  Miss  Amanda  was  greatly  lessened  by  the  presence  of 
young  Sep,  in  a  state  of  exhilaration.  He  had  just  come 
up  from  the  Buck  Tavern,  and  was  in  a  humor  for  any 
devilment  It  pleased  him.  in  addressing  me.  to  abbre- 
viate my  family-name  in  a  way  which  made  his  remarks 


160  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

*eem  shockingly  profane.  This  he  thought  the  perfectiot 
of  wit  and  he  roared  every  time  he  uttered  it. 

Miss  Amanda  looked  pained,  as  well  she  might  be,  and 
over  and  over  again  exclaimed,  "  Don't,  Sep  !  "  —  but  .0 
no  purpose.  I  thought  this  was  bad  enough,  but  worse  was 
to  come. 

"  I  say, ,"  (I  will  not  write  the  syllable  he  used), 

"  I  saw  Tom  Cuff  at  the  Buck  to-day.  He  says  the  lime- 
kiln 's  done  burning."  Then  he  winked  at  me,  arid  burst 
into  a  hoarse  laugh. 

I  sat,  frozen  with  horror. 

"  Lime-kiln  ?  •'  was  all  I  could  say,  hoping  my  confusion 
might  pass  for  ignorance  in  the  pale,  steady  eyes  which 
must  certainly  be  fixed  on  my  face. 

"You  did  n't  know  they  had  one,  I  reckon  !"  he  contin- 
ued. "  Well,  —  I  won't  tell  tales  out  of  school,  even 
against  the  schoolmaster." 

I  caught  Miss  Amanda's  look,  which  asked,  "  "What  does 
he  mean  ?  "  Explanation,  however,  was  impossible  at  the 
time,  and  I  said  nothing.  Sep's  thoughts  presently  turned 
into  another  channel,  and  my  torment  ceased,  though  not 
my  apprehensions  as  to  the  impression  he  had  produced 
on  somebody  else. 

I  did  not  dare  to  call  too  frequently,  and  several  days 
elapsed  before  I  could  make  an  explanation.  I  approached 
the  subject  clumsily  enough,  feeling  that  my  allusion  to  it 
was  a  half-confession  of  misdemeanor,  yet  too  disturbed  to 
take  the  opposite  course,  and  ignore  it.  Of  course,  I  omit- 
ted the  catastrophe  of  the  evening,  making  the  album  ac- 
count for  my  visit,  and  hinting,  as  delicately  as  possible, 
that  I  had  expected  to  meet  Miss  Bratton  at  Cuff's.  How 
I  was  relieved  to  find  that  I  had  misinterpreted  the  latter's 
glance  at  the  tea-table !  She  had  attached  no  meaning  to 
her  brother's  remark,  —  had,  in  fact,  forgotten  all  about  it ! 
Now  that  I  mentioned  the  matter,  she  had  an  indistinct 
recollection  of  something  about  Tom  Cuff  and  a  lime-kiln  ; 


JOHN    GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  161 

but  Sep  had  such  a  way  of  blurting  out  everything  that 
came  into  his  head  !  She  knew,  moreover,  how  "  people  " 
always  talked,  making  mountains  out  of  mole-hills,  —  but 
Verbena  Cuff  was  reckoned  to  be  quite  a  nice  girl,  and  I 
need  not  object  to  have  it  known  that  I  visited  her  now  and 
then. 

I  affirmed,  with  great  earnestness,  that  I  hoped  I  should 
never  see  her  again. 

"  Why,  you  seem  to  have  quite  a  prejudice  against  her, 
Mr.  Godfrey,"  said  Miss  Amanda.  "  She  is  a  good-hearted 
creature,  I  assure  you.  with,  perhaps,  a  little  —  though 
it  may  be  wrong  in  me  to  say  it — a  little  want  of  polish. 
That  is  a  common  want  in  Upper  Samaria,  however,  and 
maybe  we  all  have  it  in  your  eyes." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Amanda  —  Miss  Bratton  ! "  I  remonstrated, 
"  not  all!  You  are  unjust  to  yourself,  and  to  me,  if  you 
imagine  I  could  think  so.  Your  generosity  will  not  allow 
you  to  admit  Verbena  Cuff's  coarseness  and  boldness  of 
manner  ;  you  cannot  feel  the  contrast  as  /  do.  It  is  just 
because  some  others  are  cultivated,  and  refined,  and  pure- 
spirited,  that  her  ignorance  is  so  repulsive  to  me !  " 

She  cast  down  her'  eyes,  and  was  silent  for  a  minute. 
Then  she  spoke  in  that  gentle,  deliberate  way  which  so 
charmed  me  :  "  Ye-es,  there  are  others  who  have  risen 
above  those  who  surround  them.  You  will  find  them  here 
and  there." 

This  was  taking  up  my  words  altogether  too  literally.  I 
had  spoken,  it  is  true,  in  the  plural,  but  my  heart  meant  a 
singular.  In  her  perfect  modesty,  —  her  ignorance  of  her 
own  spiritual  value,  —  she  had  misunderstood  me.  I  did 
not  admire  her  the  less  for  this  quality,  though  I  felt  that 
all  my  indirect  professions,  hitherto,  must  have  failed  to 
reach  her  maidenly  consciousness. 

While  I  was  uneasily  shifting  my  cap  from  one  hand  to 
another,  uncertain  whether  to  continue  the  subject,  or  give 
our  conversation  another  direction,  she  took  up  a  paper 
11 


162  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

which  lay  on  the  table  beside  her,  unfolded  it,  and  asked 
with  a  bewitching  air  of  pleasantry,  — 

"  Mr.  Godfrey,  do  you  know  who  '  Selim '  is  ?  " 
I  had   not   yet  received   my  copy  from  the    post-office 
at  Cardiff,  and  was  therefore  ignorant  that  my  poem,  enti- 
tled "  The  Lament  of  Hero,  after  the  Drowning  of  Lean- 
der,"  commencing,  — 

"  Ay,  howl  ye  Hellespontic  waves ! " 

had  been  printed  in  the  number  for  that  week  ;  but  a 
glance  at  the  first  page,  as  she  held  it  towards  me,  showed 
the  success  of  my  stratagem.  I  was  discovered  at  last. 
There,  under  '•  Selim,"  was  the  address,  "  Yule's  Mill, 
Berks  County."  I  will  not  describe  my  sensations  at  that 
moment.  I  have  understood  ever  since  how  a  young  girl 
must  feel  when  the  man  her  heart  has  chosen  unexpectedly 
declares  his  own  attachment. 

"  Have  you  read  it  ?  Do  you  like  it  ?  "  I  breathlessly 
asked. 

"Yes,  indeed,  —  it  is  lovely!  I  knew  you  must  be  a 
poet,  Mr.  Godfrey.  I  saw  the  Belvidere  Bard  at  Bethle- 
hem. He  visited  our  school ;  and  -he  had  eyes  with  the 
same  expression  as  you  have.  There  's  something  about 
poets  that  distinguishes  them  from  common  people." 

My  own  thought !  Was  I  not,  like  Byron,  not  altogether 
made  of  such  mean  clay  as  rots  into  the  souls  of  those 
whom  I  survey  ?  And  she,  who  stood  as  far  above  the  rest 
of  her  sex  in  that  secluded  valley  as  I  stood  above  mine, 
was  the  first  —  the  only  one — -to  recognize  my  nobility. 
Only  the  exiled  Princess  knew,  under  his  rags,  the  lofty 
bearing  of  the  exiled  Prince !  Oh,  could  I  but  woo  her  to 
return  my  sprouting  love,  I  would  immortalize  her  in  future 
song,  —  she  should  be  my  Hinda,  my  Medora,  my  Astarte 
my  Ellen  of  the  Lake !  After  Burns  and  his  Highland 
Mary,  should  be  written  the  names  of  Godfrey  and  his 
Amanda. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  168 

There  was  no  end,  that  night,  to  my  preposterous  dreams. 
As  I  recall  them,  I  know  not  whether  to  weep  or  laugh. 
The  puny  lily  of  my  imaginative  faculty  seemed  destined 
to  fill  the  world  with  its  fragrance,  and  I  could  not  see  that 
it  was  rooted,  no  less  than  the  pig-weed,  in  the  common 
mud.  I  had  yet  to  learn  that  the  finer  clay,  upon  which  I 
congratulated  myself,  is  more  easily  soiled  by  the  Devil's 
fingers  than  one  of  coarser  grit,  —  that  neither  do  such 
natures  as  mine  monopolize  the  beauty,  the  romance,  and 
the  tragedy  of  life,  nor  are  they  exempt  from  the  tempta- 
tions which  assail  the  ignorant,  the  excesses  committed  by 
the  vulgar. 

The  tidings  that  "  the  schoolmaster  wrote  verses  for  the 
papers  "  were  soon  spread  through  the  neighborhood.  I 
cannot,  to  this  day,  decide  whether  it  was  an  advantage  to 
my  reputation  among  the  people,  or  the  reverse.  On  the 
one  hand,  they  had  little  respect  for  any  talent  which  did 
not  take  a  practical  direction ;  on  the  other,  they  vaguely 
felt  that  it  was  a  certain  sort  of  distinction.  The  Yules, 
and  others,  borrowed  my  copy  of  the  paper,  and,  I  am 
bound  to  believe,  dutifully  read  the  poem.  Dan  was  honest 
enough  to  confess  to  me  :  "  It 's  a  pretty  jingle,  but  I  can't 
say  as  I  know  what  it  all  means."  The  girls,  I  did  not  fail 
to  observe,  were  much  more  impressed  by  the  discovery 
than  the  young  men. 

By  degrees,  however,  I  received  encouraging  notices  of 
one  kind  or  another.  The  shoemaker  at  the  Buck,  an  old 
Scotchman,  who  knew  Burns  by  heart  and  sneered  at  Ho- 
mer and  Shakspeare,  was  one  of  my  very  first  admirers 
but  he  used  to  say,  "  Ye  ha'n't  got  the  lilt,  lad,"  —  which 
was  very  true,  only  I  did  n't  believe  him  at  the  time. 
Squire  Bratton,  being  one  day  at  Carterstown,  brought  me 
a  message  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Perego,  to  the  effect  that  I 
would  find  sublime  subjects  for  my  muse  in  the  Scriptures : 
he  suggested  Moses  on  Pisgah,  and  the  visit  of  Naaman  to 
Elisha.  I  did,  indeed,  commence  a  poem  on  the  formei 


164  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

subject,  out  of  pure  gratitude  for  the  clergyman's  interest, 
—  but  this  was  an  insufficient  inspiration,  and  the  work 
was  never  finished.  Then  I  received  many  applications  to 
write  obituary  verses,  made  from  so  evident  a  piety  to- 
wards the  dead,  and  with  such  sincere  good  faith  in  my 
powers,  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  some  of  my  manuscripts  are  still  preserved  be- 
tween the  leaves  of  old  Family  Bibles,  in  Upper  Samaria. 
The  applications  for  album  poetry,  at  first  so  agreeable, 
became  at  last  a  positive  annoyance,  because  my  poetic 
apostrophes  to  Youth  and  Beauty  were  always  taken  in  a 
literal  and  personal  sense.  One  day,  in  sheer  desperation, 
I  wrote  in  a  volume  sent  to  me,  through  Susan  Yule,  by  a 
young  lady  of  Cardiff,  — 

"  Oh,  fair  Unknown !  believe  my  simple  rhyme : 
Procrastination  is  the  thief  of  time." 

The  lady,  of  whose  age  and  circumstances  I  was  utterly 
ignorant,  happened  to  be  verging  on  ancient  maidenhood, 
much  to  her  own  disgust,  and  immediately  suspected  me 
of  a  malicious  insinuation.  She  tore  out  and  burned  the 
leaf,  and  within  three  days  Mrs.  Yule  picked  up  a  report 
that  I  had  written  something  unmentionably  coarse  and 
profane.  It  must  have  been  generally  believed,  for  I  re- 
ceived very  few  albums  afterwards. 

During  this  time  the  number  of  my  pupils  had  been 
gradually  increasing,  until  there  were  frequently  between 
forty  and  fifty  present  at  once,  and  all  my  youthful  author- 
ity was  required  to  preserve  even  tolerable  order.  I  had 
little  trouble  with  the  oldest  and  the  youngest,  but  the  cubs 
between  twelve  and  sixteen  sometimes  drove  me  nearly  to 
distraction.  Keeping  them  in  after  school-hours,  was  more 
of  an  annoyance  to  myself  than  to  them :  I  had  a  dislike 
to  bodily  punishment,  although  it  was  well  merited,  and 
allowed  by  the  custom  of  the  country ;  and,  moreover,  to 
confess  the  truth,  I  did  not  feel  sure  of  my  ability  to  sup 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  16£ 

press  a  well-organized  plan  of  rebellion.  Towtids  the  end 
of  the  winter,  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  a  "barring  out" 
was  really  contemplated,  and  communicated  my  suspi<  Ions 
to  Dan  Yule,  who  was  my  confidant  in  all  external  matters. 

Dan  took  the  matter  much  more  coolly  than  I  did. 
"  Boys  will  be  boys,"  said  he  ;  "  they  do  it  every  winter;  — 
fact  is,  I  've  had  a  hand  in  it  myself.  But  if  you  want  to 
fix  'em,  1  '11  put  you  up  to  a  trick  worth  two  o'  their'n." 

This  struck  me  as  better  than  resistance;  so,  prompted 
by  Dan,  I  procured  some  large  iron  spikes,  and  prepared 
oblique  holes  in  the  window-frames  to  receive  them.  The 
window-shutters  consisted  of  a  single  piece,  bolted  on  the 
inside.  I  also  went  into  the  loft  and  bored  a  small  hole 
through  the  plaster  of  the  ceiling,  just  over  the  stove. 
Then,  with  tranquillity  of  soul,  I  waited  for  the  event. 

On  Saturday  morning,  the  closed  shutters  of  the  school- 
house  announced  to  me  that  the  barring-out  had  commenced. 
I  tried  to  open  the  door,  but  found  it  firmly  fastened  on  the 
inner  side.  Then  I  went  to  each  of  the  four  windows,  pre- 
tending to  examine  them,  but  really  inserting  my  spikes. 
When  this  was  done,  I  locked  the  door  from  without,  and, 
with  a  stone,  drove  the  spikes  home.  The  boys  thought  I 
was  attempting  to  force  <:n  entrance :  I  could  hear  their 
malicious  laughter.  When  all  was  secure,  I  took  a  rail 
from  the  fence  and  placed  it  against  the  gable.  It  reached 
so  near  the  little  garret- window  that  I  easily  effected  an 
entrance,  and  stole  quietly  along  the  middle  joist  to  the 
hole  in  the  ceiling.  The  boys  were  at  the  windows,  trying 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  me  through  the  cracks  under  the 
shutters.  It  was  a  favorable  moment.  I  hastily  poured  the 
contents  of  a  small  paper  of  ground  cayenne  pepper  down 
through  the  hole  upon  the  stove,  slipped  back  again,  re- 
placed the  rail,  and  gave  a  few  more  thumps  on  the  window- 
shutters  by  way  of  farewell. 

Dan  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  lurk  and  lister 
after  I  reported  that  the  work  was  done,  and  his  descrip- 


166  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUXES. 

tion,  that  evening,  of  the  sneezes  and  cries  of  distress ;  th« 
swagger  of  some  boys  and  the  penitence  of  others ;  the 
consultations  and  the  final  determination  to  surrender ;  the 
bewilderment  and  dumb  dismay  at  finding  that  they  had 
not  only  barred  the  master  out,  but  the  master  had  barred 
them  in,  —  occasioned  more  laughter  in  the  family  than  1 
had  heard  since  I  came  to  live  with  them.  The  efforts  of 
the  boys  to  get  out  lasted  for  some  time,  and  was  only  ac- 
complished at  last  by  wrenching  one  of  the  shutters  off  its 
hinges.  Then  they  scattered  to  their  several  homes,  very 
sheepish  and  crestfallen. 

On  the  following  Monday  I  opened  school  as  usual. 
There  was  a  curious  expectancy  among  the  pupils,  but  I 
made  not  the  slightest  allusion,  then  or  afterwards,  to  the 
Saturday's  performance.  Dan  told  the  whole  story  at  the 
Buck,  and  it  was  some  time  before  the  boys  heard  the  last 
of  it  I  had  much  less  difficulty,  thenceforth,  in  preserving 
order. 

As  week  after  week  of  the  winter  passed  away,  and  my 
thoughts  turned  from  the  memory  of  autumn  to  the  hope 
of  spring,  the  temporary  character  of  my  occupation  forced 
itself  more  and  more  upon  my  attention.  In  a  short  time 
my  engagement  would  be  at  an  end,  and  I  was  less  than 
ever  in  the  humor  to  renew  it.  What  the  next  step  should 
be,  was  yet  undecided,  except  that  it  must  be  forward  and 
upward  into  a  wider  sphere  of  action. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  167 


CHAPTER  XTTT. 

IK   WHICH   I   DECLARE,   DECIDE,   AND   VENTURE. 

I  HAVE  already  spoken  of  the  exceptional  way  in  which 
my  nature  developed  itself —  by  sudden  bounds,  which,  in 
a  very  short  time,  carried  me  quite  out  of  my  former  self. 
The  two,  or  three,  or  possibly  twenty  inherited  elements  were 
not  smoothly  blended  in  my  composition  ;  the  blood  of  my 
father's  and  mother's  lines  seemed  only  to  run  side  by  side, 
not  mingle  in  a  new  result,  in  my  veins.  It  was  a  long  time 
—  very  long  after  the  period  of  which  I  am  now  writing  — 
before  I  could  comprehend  my  own  laws  of  growth  and  he- 
ing,  and  reconcile  their  apparent  inconsistencies.  As  yet, 
my  power  of  introversion  was  of  the  shallowest  kind.  1 
floated  along,  with  closed  eyes,  on  the  current  of  my  sensa 
tions  and  my  fancies. 

My  growing  attachment  to  Miss  Amanda  Bratton,  how 
ever,  was  the  means  of  pushing  me  a  long  stride  forwards. 
It  thoroughly  penetrated  me  with  a  soft,  ideal  warmth,  far 
enough  removed  from  the  strong  flame  of  ripe  masculine 
passion,  and  gently  stimulated  all  my  mental  and  moral  en- 
ergies. My  ambition  began  to  find  its  proper  soil  of  self- 
reliance,  and  to  put  forth  its  roots.  A  new  force  was  at 
work  in  my  frame,  giving  strength  and  elasticity  to  the  mus- 
cles, "  keying  up  "  many  a  slack  fibre,  lifting  the  drooping 
lid  of  the  eye  and  steadying  its  gaze,  and  correcting,  with 
a  clearer  outline,  the  boyish  softness  of  the  face.  I  no 
longer  shrank  from  the  coming  encounter  with  the  world 
but  longed  for  the  test  of  courage  and  the  measure  of 
strength. 


168  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Yet,  in  one  respect,  I  felt  myself  still  a  coward.  Al- 
though convinced  of  the  eternal  devotion  of  my  heart  to 
the  beloved  object,  I  had  not  dared  to  declare  it  I  saw 
her  frequently,  and  our  relation  became  more  and  more 
sweetly  intimate  and  confidential ;  but  I  never  surprised  a 
blush  when  I  came,  nor  detected  a  tender  tremor  of  voice 
when  I  left.  Her  natiire  was  as  calm,  and  apparently  as 
limpid,  as  a  shaded  pool  in  the  heart  of  a  forest.  When 
I  looked  in  her  clear,  unchanging  eyes,  as  they  steadily 
rested  on  mine.  I  felt  the  presence  of  a  pure,  unsuspecting, 
virgin  soul.  It  seemed  to  me  that  my  ever-present  con- 
sciousness of  love  was  met  by  as  profound  an  unconscious- 
ness. I  longed,  yet  dreaded  to  arouse  her  from  her  peace- 
ful and  innocent  dream. 

The  solution  of  my  two  uncertainties  was  hastened  by  an 
unexpected  occurrence.  Early  in  March  I  was  surprised 
by  a  visit  from  Rand,  who  came,  as  he  said,  on  some  busi- 
ness in  which  D.  J.  Mulford  and  Squire  Bratton  were  both 
concerned.  Of  course  he  was  the  guest  of  the  latter  dur- 
ing the  two  or  three  days  of  his  stay.  He  came  over  to  the 
mill  on  the  evening  of  his  arrival,  and  almost  embraced  me 
in  a  gush  of  affectionate  ardor  when  we  met.  I  was  equally 
delighted,  and  took  him  at  once  up  to  my  room  for  a  chat, 
as  on  our  Sunday  afternoons  in  Reading. 

"  Why,  Godfrey,  old  boy,"  said  he,  lighting  a  cigar  with- 
out ceremony,  "  what  a  snug  little  den  you  have !  And 
Bratton  tells  me  you  're  a  good  hand  at  the  school,  and  do 
credit  to  his  choice.  I  must  say  I  'm  glad  it  has  turned  out 
so.  for  I  took  a  little  of  the  responsibility  upon  myself  in 
the  beginning,  you  remember.  Bratton  's  a  keen,  long- 
headed man  —  something  of  a  swell,  between  ourselves ; 
but  so  is  your  affectionate  old  uncle,  for  that  matter.  By 
the  way,  I  've  made  Woolley's  acquaintance,  in  the  way  of 
professional  business ;  —  oh,  you  need  n't  be  alarmed  ;  your 
little  legacy  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  'm  sorry  1  can'* 
explain  myself  more  particularly,  but  these  matters  are  con- 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  169 

fidential.  you  know.  I  'm  posted  up  about  all  the  business 
in  Mulford's  hands,  and  he  finds  it  convenient  to  let  me 
help  him  now  and  then.  I  say,  though,  Godfrey,  —  no, 
'  Selim,'  I  mean, — you  are  getting  famous.  That  Hero 
and  Leander  article  was  copied  into  the  Gazette,  the  other 
day.  Of  course,  when  I  saw  "  Yule's  Mill  "  at  the  bottom, 
I  knew  what  bird  had  whistled.  I  congratulate  you, — 
upon  my  soul  I  do  !  " 

I  was  not  proof  against  such  hearty,  outspoken  sympathy. 
Before  Rand  left  I  had  confided  to  him  my  most  cherished 
literary  hopes  and  desires,  had  read  to  him  the  best  of  my 
treasures  in  manuscript,  and  asked  his  advice  as  to  the  next 
step  I  ought  to  take. 

"  Leave  here,  by  all  means,"  he  said.  "  Go  to  Philadel- 
phia, or,  still  better,  to  New  York,  where  you  '11  find  the 
right  sort  of  work.  You  may  come  to  write  novels  or  trag- 
edies, in  the  course  of  time,  and  make  as  much  in  a  month 
as  you  would  in  a  year  with  such  a  school  as  this.  I  should 
advise  you,  though,  Selim,"  (he  persisted  in  addressing  me 
so,)  "  to  get  into  some  newspaper  or  book  business ;  it 's 
more  solid  and  respectable.  Poets,  you  know,  are  always 
dissipated,  and  finish  with  the  poor-house." 

I  resented  this  statement  with  great  warmth. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  continued,  "  I  did  n't  mean  that  that 
would  be  your  fate,  Selim.  Besides,  it  may  work  off  after 
a  while.  Lots  of  fellows  catch  poetry,  and  have  it  a  year 
or  two,  and  it  don't  seem  to  do  them  any  harm.  Mulford 
wrote  a  song  for  the  last  Presidential  campaign,  to  the  tune 
of  '  TullaJtgorum,'  and  it  does  n't  sound  so  bad,  when  he 
sings  it.  But,  to  come  to  the  point,  the  city  's  the  place  for 
you,  or  any  man  that  wants  to  live  by  his  wits.  Only  keep 
your  eyes  skinned,  and  don't  let  the  hair  grow  on  your 
tongue.  You  must  either  have  gold  in  your  pocket,  or  brass 
in  your  face.  Most  people  can't  tell  one  from  t'  other." 

Rand's  expressions  jarred  harshly  on  my  more  delicate 
nature;  but  then,  I  knew  precisely  what  he  was,  —  good- 


170  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

hearted,  I  believed,  but  thoroughly  unideal.  The 
thing  was,  his  judgment  coincided  with  my  own ;  he,  too, 
recognized  that  I  was  fitted  for  a  more  important  field  of  ac- 
tion. The  very  materialism  of  his  views  gave  them  greater 
practical  value  in  my  eyes.  Not  that  I  paid  much  regard 
to  this  side  of  the  question  ;  but  it  is  always  more  comfort- 
able to  have  the  conclusions  of  Selfishness  with  you  than 
against  you. 

My  first  plan  had  been  to  select  Philadelphia  as  my  fu- 
ture residence.  My  poetical  pseudonym  was  known  to  at 
least  one  literary  paper  there,  and  I  might  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Saxon,  author  of  the  series  of  "  Moral  Nov- 
els," and  Brightaxe,  who  wrote  the  dramatic  poem  of  the 
"  Traitor  of  Talladega."  On  the  other  hand,  the  dii  majo- 
res  had  their  seats  in  New  York ;  and  I  fancied  Irving, 
Cooper,  Percival,  and  poets  whose  names  I  will  not  men- 
tion because  they  are  still  living,  seated  day  by  day 
around  the  same  Olympian  board,  and  talking  in  splendid 
tropes  and  cadences.  Even  if  they  only  asked  for  pota- 
toes, there  must  be  a  certain  rhythmic  grace  in  the  words, 
with  caesural  pauses  falling  at  classic  intervals.  Ye  gods  ! 
what  a  fool  I  still  was  ! 

There  was  at  that  time  a  monthly  magazine,  called  "  The 
Hesperian,"  published  in  New  York.  It  was  devoted  to 
Literature  and  Fashion,  and  was  illustrated  both  with  col- 
ored figures  copied  from  Le  Fottet,  and  mezzotints  of  mushy 
texture,  representing  such  subjects  as  "  The  Mother's  Bless- 
ing," or  "  He  Comes  Too  Late."  I  looked  upon  the  latter 
as  miracles  of  art,  and  imbibed  the  contributions  as  the 
very  cream  of  literature.  The  names  of  the  writers  were 
printed  in  capitals  on  the  last  page  of  the  cover,  and  my 
heart  throbbed  when  I  saw  Adeliza  Choate  among  them. 
I  wondered  whether  I  could  not  keep  step  with  her  on  the 
Parnassian  steep  ;  to  have  my  name  so  printed  was  a  down- 
right assurance  of  immortality.  Accordingly,  I  picked  out 
my  choicest  manuscript  and  forwarded  it  with  a  note,  signed 


JOHN  GODFREI'S   FORTUNES.  171 

with  my  proper  name.  By  a  happy  coincidence,  the  verj 
day  after  Rand's  arrival  I  received  a  note  from  "  G.  Jenks. 
Publisher,  per  W.  Timms,"  stating  that  my  poem  would 
appear  in  the  May  number,  —  further,  that  it  was  not  G. 
Jenks's  habit  to  pay  a  nom  de  plume,  but  that  he  would 
send  me  the  Magazine  gratuitously  for  six  months. 

This  piece  of  good  fortune  decided  me.  True,  it  opened 
no  prospect  of  remunerative  employment  but  then  I  should 
not  be  obliged  to  pay  for  "  The  Hesperian." 

As  I  was  walking  home  from  school,  reading  the  letter 
over  again,  Rand  and  Squire  Bratton,  coming  up  from  the 
direction  of  the  Buck,  overtook  me.  The  latter  was  un- 
usually cordial  and  condescending,  insisting  that  I  should 
take  tea  at  his  house  that  evening,  as  my  friend  Rand  was 
to  return  to  Reading  the  next  morning.  Of  course,  I  was 
only  too  willing  to  comply. 

After  tea.  Miss  Amanda  opened  her  piano  and  sang  for 
us.  My  enjoyment  of  her  talent,  however,  was  a  little  dis- 
turbed by  Rand's  prosaic  whispers  of,  "  She  's  been  put 
through  the  regular  paces  at  school,  and  no  mistake.  That 
style  of  thing  was  n't  meant  for  Upper  Samaria." 

At  the  close  of  the  song,  tears  of  feeling  swam  in  my 
eyes,  but  Rand  loudly  clapped  his  hands.  ''  You  have  an 
exquisite  touch,  Miss  Bratton,"  he  called  across  the  room ; 
"  it 's  rare  to  find  so  much  musical  talent" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  hear  much  better  music  in  Read- 
ing, Mr.  Rand,"  she  modestly  replied. 

"  No,  I  assure  you ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  his  most  earnest 
voice,  starting  from  his  seat  and  approaching  her.  "  The 
Miss  Clevengers  are  called  fine  performers,  but  I  prefer 
your  style.  They  bang  and  hammer  so,  you  can  hardly 
make  out  what  it  is  they  're  playing.  It  does  n't  touch  youi 
feelings." 

Hang  the  fellow  !  I  thought.  If  I  had  but  half  his  assur- 
ance, T  should  know  my  fate  before  twenty-four  hours  are 
over.  I  did  not  hear  the  conversation  which  ensued,  foi 


172  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Squire  Bratton  turned  towards  me  with  some  questicj 
about  the  school ;  but  I  could  mark  the  honeyed  softness 
of  his  voice,  as  he  hung  over  her  music-stool.  I  did  not 
know  why  I  should  feel  disturbed.  He  was  a  chance  vis- 
itor —  had  never  seen  her  before,  and  might  never  come 
again.  She  was  bound  to  treat  him  with  proper  courtesy 
and  her  manner  was  not  such  as  to  invite  an  immediate  fa- 
miliarity. There  was  nothing  wrong  anywhere,  yet  a  fool- 
ish, feverish  unrest  took  possession  of  me. 

Later  in  the  evening,  the  album  was  produced.  Miss 
Amanda  immediately  turned  to  my  page,  and  said,  "Oh, 
Mr.  Rand,  you  must  read  what  Mr.  Godfrey  has  written." 

"  Capital !  "  he  exclaimed,  after  he  had  perused  the  lines. 
"  What  a  nice  touch  of  fancy  !  Godfrey,  you  must  really 
have  been  inspired.  But  such  a  flower  would  make  almost 
any  bird  sing  —  even  a  kill-deer  like  myself." 

He  looked  full  in  her  face  as  he  uttered  the  words.  In- 
voluntarily, I  did  the  same  thing,  to  note  how  she  would 
receive  the  brazen  compliment. 

"  You  shall  have  a  chance,  then,"  she  quietly  said  ;  "  I 
will  bring  you  pen  and  ink  directly." 

"  Oh,  by  Jove,  that 's  taking  me  up  with  a  vengeance  !  " 
Rand  exclaimed.  '•  I  could  n't  do  such  a  thing  to  save  my 
ife.  Godfrey,  you  must  help  me." 

"I  'm  not  a  mocking-bird.    I  can  only  sing  my  own  song." 

She  smiled,  but  without  looking  at  me. 

K  Well,  then,"  said  Rand,  "  I  must  get  something  out  of 
iry  memory.  How  will  this  do  ? 

"  '  My  pen  is  bad,  my  ink  is  pale, 
My  love  to  yon  shall  never  fail.'  " 

u  No,"  said  she,  taking  the  book  from  his  hand,  "  I  will 
not  have  anything  of  the  kind.  You  are  making  fun  of 
my  album,  and  I  '11  put  it  away." 

"  Aw,  now."  groaned  Rand,  assuming  an  expression  of 
penitence.  But  it  was  too  late.  The  book  was  already  re- 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  178 

moved,  and  Miss  Bratton  came  back  with  an  arch  air  oi 
reproof,  saying  to  him,  "  You  must  behave  better  another 
time." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  always  be  afraid  of  you  " 

I  went  home  that  night  with  an  increase  of  hope,  ami  a 
growing  determination  to  declare  my  sentiments.  I  scarce- 
ly slept,  so  busily  was  my  mind  occupied  in  creating  possi- 
ble situations,  and  enacting  the  tender  drama  in  advance. 
I  succeeded  in  everything  but  her  answers,  which  I  could 
not  —  through  sympathy  with  myself — make  rejective,  yet 
did  not  dare  to  make  consentive. 

I  had  hoped,  all  along,  that  some  happy  accident  might 
disclose  the  truth,  —  that  some  mutually  felt  warmth  of  long- 
ing might  bring  us  naturally  to  the  brink  where  my  confes- 
sion would  be  the  first  step  beyond  ;  but  no  such  came.  I 
must  either  seek  or  make  the  opportunity.  After  much 
painful  uncertainty  of  mind,  I  hit  upon  what  I  suppose 
must  be  a  very  general  device  of  young  lovers,  —  to  an- 
nounce my  approaching  departure,  and  be  guided  by  the 
manner  in  which  she  should  receive  it. 

The  month  of  March  drew  to  a  close,  and  I  had  but  one 
week  more  of  the  school  before  the  coveted  chance  ar- 
rived. It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  one  of  those  deli- 
cious days  of  windless  and  cloudless  sunshine  when  the 
sad-hued  earth  sleeps,  and  sleeping,  dreams  of  summer.  I 
walked  up  the  creek,  in  order  to  look  for  arbutus-blossoms 
on  a  wooded  knoll  above  the  mill-dam.  We  had  been  talk- 
ing of  them  a  few  days  before,  and  she  had  told  me  where 
they  grew.  I  found  the  plants,  indeed,  pushing  forth  from 
under  the  fallen  leaves,  but  the  flowers  were  not  yet  devel- 
oped. I  gathered,  iastead,  a  bunch  of  club-moss,  and  took 
rny  seat  upon  an  old  stump,  to  listen  to  a  bluebird  that 
sang  from  the  willow-thicket  below.  Something  in  the  in- 
dolent quiet  of  the  air  reminded  me  of  the  shady  glen  at 
Honeybrook,  and  I  thought  of  my  cousin  Penrose.  Ho* 
far  away  it  seemed ! 


174  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

After  a  while  I  heard  the  sound  of  wheels  approaching 
on  the  road  from  Cardiff,  and  a  light  open  wagon  came  into 
sight  around  the  head  of  the  knoll.  I  recognized  Sep 
Bratton  by  his  voice  before  I  could  distinguish  his  figure 
through  the  trees ;  and  the  dark-blue  drapery  beside  him 
—  could  it  be  ?  —  yes,  it  really  was  —  Amanda  !  The  road 
passed  some  thirty  or  forty  feet  below  me,  but  neither  of 
them  looked  up  in  my  direction. 

"  I  'm  going  down  to  the  Buck,"  I  heard  Sep  say,  "  but 
I  '11  let  you  off  at  the  turning.  Or,  do  you  want  to  stop 
and  see  Sue  Yule  ?  " 

"  Not  to-day,"  she  answered.  "  But  don't  stay  long,  Sep. 
You  know,  Pa  don't  like  it" 

I  listened  no  more,  for  a  wild  idea  shot  through  my  brain : 
I  would  cross  the  stream  above  the  dam,  hurry  down  on 
the  opposite  side,  and  intercept  her !  As  soon  as  the  vehi- 
cle disappeared,  I  bounded  down  the  knoll,  leaped  the  nar- 
row channel,  and  stole  as  rapidly  as  possible,  under  cover 
of  the  thickets,  towards  the  path  she  must  take.  I  had 
plenty  of  time  to  recover  my  breath,  for  she  was  still  stand- 
ing beside  the  wagon,  talking  to  Sep,  who  seemed  excited. 
I  could  hear  the  sound  of  his  voice,  but  not  the  words. 

At  last,  the  sweet  suspense  terminated.  Sep  drove  off, 
and  I  saw  her  gradually  approach.  Assuming  a  careless, 
sauntering  air,  which  belied  my  inward  perturbation,  I 
emerged  into  view,  walked  a  few  steps,  paused  and  looked 
around,  seemed  suddenly  to  perceive  her,  and  then  went 
forward  to  meet  her. 

Never  had  she  looked  so  lovely.  Her  eyes  expressed 
the  same  unchanging  calm,  harmonizing,  as  I  thought,  with 
the  peaceful  sky  over  us,  but  the  air  had  brought  a  faint 
tinge  to  her  cheek  and  ruffled  a  little  the  smoothness  of  her 
light-brown  hair.  I  noticed,  also,  the  steady  even  measure 
of  her  step  if  there  had  been  harebells  in  her  path,  thej 
would  have  risen  up  from  it,  elastic,  as  from  the  foot  of  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake.  She  carried  a  dainty  parasol,  closed 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  175 

and  occasionally  twirled  it  on  her  forefinger  by  an  ivory 
ring  at  the  end  of  the  handle. 

By  the  time  we  had  exchanged  greetings,  and  I  had  spo- 
ken of  the  arbutus  and  given  her  the  club-moss,  we  passed 
the  dam,  and  the  road  would  soon  bring  us  to  Bratton'a 
gate.  What  I  had  to  say  must  be  said  speedily. 

"  I  am  going  to  leave  here,  Miss  Bratton." 

a  Inde-e-d !  So  soon  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  pausing  in  her 
valk,  as  I  had  done. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  to  New  York.  This  may  be  my  last 
walk  with  you.  Let  us  go  down  the  bank,  as  far  as  the  old 
hemlock." 

She  seemed  to  hesitate.  "I  don't  know,"  she  said,  at 
last  "  Ma  expects  me."  But  while  she  spoke  her  steps 
had  turned  unconsciously,  with  mine,  into  the  footpath. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  why  I  go,"  I  continued.  "  Not  be  • 
cause  I  have  not  been  very  happy  here,  but  this  is  not  the 
life  for  me.  I  must  be  an  author,  if  I  can,  —  something,  at 
any  rate,  to  make  my  name  honorable.  I  feel  that  I  have 
some  little  talent,  and  if  I  am  ambitious  it  is  not  for  myself 
alone.  I  want  to  be  worthy  of  my  —  friends." 

"  Oh,  you  are  that  already,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  said  she. 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Miss  Amanda  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

Her  voice  expressed  a  positiveness  of  belief  which  was 
grateful,  but,  somehow,  it  did  not  encourage  me  to  the  final 
avowal.  I  had  reached  the  brink,  however,  and  must 
plunge  now  or  never. 

"  If  I  should  make  myself  a  name,  Miss  Amanda,"  I 
went  on,  with  broken,  trembling  voice,  "  it  will  be  for  you 
sake.     Do  you  hope,  now,  that  I  shall  succeed  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  I  must  tell  you,  before  I  go,  that  I  love  you  —  have 
loved  you  since  we  first  met.  I  am  presumptuous,  I  know, 
to  ask  for  a  return,  but  my  heart  craves  it." 

T  paused.  She  had  partly  turned  away  her  head,  and 
seemed  to  be  weeping. 


176  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTC^S. 

'Tell  me,  you  are  not  offended  by  what  T  have  said,"  1 
entreated. 

"  No,"  she  murmured,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice. 

A  wild  hope  sprang  up  in  my  heart  "  You  do  not  com- 
mand me  to  forget  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  she,  as  faintly  as  before. 

"  Then  may  I  go  and  labor  in  the  blessed  knowledge  that 
you  think  of  me,  —  that  you  will  be  faithful  as  I  am  faith- 
ful, —  that,  —  O  Amanda  !  is  it  really  true  ?  Do  you  re- 
turn my  love  ?  " 

She  had  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief.  I  gently 
put  one  arm  around  her  waist  and  drew  her  towards  me. 
Her  head  sank  on  my  shoulder.  "  Speak,  darling  !  "  I  en- 
treated. 

"  I  cannot,"  she  whispered,  hiding  her  face  on  my  breast. 

It  was  enough.  A  pulse  of  immeasurable  joy  throbbed 
in  my  heart,  chimed  wonderful  music  in  my  ears,  and  over- 
flowed in  waves  of  light  upon  the  barren  earth.  The  hill- 
tops were  touched  with  a  nimbus  of  glory,  and  far  beyond 
them  stretched  a  shining  world,  wherein  the  thorns  burs' 

O  ' 

into  muffling  roses,  and  the  sharp  flints  of  the  highway  be- 
came as  softest  moss.  I  loved,  and  I  was  beloved ! 

My  arms  closed  around  her.  My  face  bent  over  her, 
and  my  lips  sealed  on  hers  the  silent  compact.  I  would 
not  torture  her  pure,  virginal  timidity  of  heart.  Her  sweet 
and  natural  surrender  spoke  the  words  which  her  voice 
could  not  yet  utter.  I  repeated  my  own  declaration,  with 
broken  expressions  of  rapture,  now  that  my  tongue  was 
loosed  and  the  courage  of  love  had  replaced  its  cowardice. 

We  reached  the  old  hemlock,  I  knew  not  how,  and  sat 
down  on  the  bank,  side  by  side.  I  took  and  tenderly  held 
her  hand,  which  trembled  a  little  as  it  lay  in  mine.  Meas- 
uring her  agitation,  as  woman,  by  mine,  as  man,  I  could 
readily  make  allowance  for  all  that  was  passive  in  her  atti- 
tude and  words.  I  had  burst  upon  her  suddenly  with  my 
declaration,  startling  the  innocent  repose  of  her  heart  with 


JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  177 

the  consciousness  of  love,  and  she  must  have  time  to  be- 
come familiar  with  the  immortal  guest. 

I  explained  to  her  my  plans,  so  far  as  they  possessed  a 
definite  shape.  My  success  in  literature  I  spoke  of  as  a 
thing  assured ;  one  year,  or,  at  most,  two,  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  give  me  a  sure  position.  Then  I  could  boldly  re- 
turn and  claim  her  as  my  precious  reward,  —  now,  I  must 
be  satisfied  with  my  blissful  knowledge  of  her  love,  upon 
whic"  I  should  rely  as  upon  my  own.  My  trust  in  her  was 
boundless,  —  if  it  were  not  so,  I  could  not  possibly  bear  the 
pangs  of  absence. 

"•  We  shall  write  to  each  other,  shall  we  not,  Amanda  ?  " 
I  asked.  "  Our  hearts  can  still  hold  communion,  and  im- 
part reciprocal  courage  and  consolation.  Promise  me  this, 
and  I  have  nothing  more  to  ask." 

"  If  we  can  arrange  it  so  that  no  one  shall  know,"  she 
answered.  "  I  would  n't  have  Pa  or  Ma  find  it  out  for  any- 
thing. I  'm  sure  they  would  n't  hear  of  such  a  thing  yet 
awhile.  But  we  are  both  young,  Mr.  Godfrey  "  — 

"  Call  me  '  John,' "  I  murmured,  in  tender  reproach. 

She  beamed  upon  me  a  sweet,  frank  smile,  and  contin 
ued :  "  We  are  so  young,  John,  and  we  can  wait  and  hope. 
I  am  sure  if  ever  anybody  was  constant,  you  are.  You 
must  write,  but  not  very  often.  If  you  could  only  send 
your  letters  so  that  Pa  or  Sep  should  not  see  them !  Sep 
would  soon  notice  them,  and  you  know  how  he  t#lks  ! " 

I  was  equally  convinced  of  the  propriety  of  keeping  our 
attachment  secret  for  the  present.  The  difficulty  in  rela- 
tion to  correspondence  had  not  occurred  to  me  before.  It 
was  a  new  proof  of  the  interest  she  felt  in  the  successful 
issue  of  our  love. 

"  How  can  it  be  done  ?  "  said  I.  "  We  might  send  our 
letters  through  somebody  else.  There  's  Dan  Yule,  as  hon- 
est a  fellow  as  ever  lived !  " 

"  Oh  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  nobody  must  know  what  —  what 
you  have  said  to  me !  " 
19 


178  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

u  He  shall  not  know ! "  I  protested.  "  I  '11  make  up  som« 
story  to  explain  the  letters  to  Dan,  and  he  's  so  simple- 
minded,  he  never  suspects  anything.  Or,  is  there  anybody 
else?" 

No,  she  could  think  of  no  one,  and  she  finally  consented 
though  with  reluctance,  to  the  proposal.  She  now  insisted 
on  returning  home,  and  I  must,  perforce,  be  satisfied  with 
one  more  kiss  before  we  emerged  from  the  screen  of  the 
brook-trees.  On  reaching  the  road,  we  parted  with  a  long 
clasp  of  hands,  which  said  to  me  th;it  her  heart  now  recog 
nized  the  presence  of  love,  and  would  be  faithful  forever. 

I  saw  her  twice  again  before  my  departure,  but  could 
only  exchange  a  few  stolen  words,  hot  with  compressed 
emotion.  Sorrow  for  the  parting,  and  a  joyous  impatience 
to  be  away  and  at  work  for  her  sake,  were  strangely  min- 
gled in  my  heart ;  yet  joy  was  most  natural  to  my  temper- 
ament, and  it  now  poured  through  my  days  like  a  freshet, 
flooding  over  and  drowning  every  lingering  barrier  of  doubt 
or  self-distrust 

When  my  school  closed  and  my  account  with  the  direc- 
tors was  settled,  I  found  myself  in  possession  of  nearly 
seventy  dollars,  as  the  net  result  of  my  winter's  labors.  I 
was  also,  had  I  known  it,  entitled  to  receive  the  annual  in- 
terest on  the  sum  in  my  uncle's  hands  ;  but  I  was  too  little 
alive  to  mere  material  matters  to  make  any  inquiry  about 
it,  and  supj^osed  that,  in  breaking  away  from  his  guardian- 
ship, I  had  debarred  myself  from  all  claims  of  the  kind, 
until  I  should  be  my  own  master. 

The  arrangement  with  Dan  Yule,  with  regard  to  my  cor- 
respondence with  Amanda,  was  easily  made.  My  repeated 
declaration  that  it  was  mere  friendly  interchange  of  letters 
would  have  made  any  one  else  suspicious,  but  Dan  merely 
nodded  his  head,  and  said,  "  All  right,  —  I  '11  'tend  to  it." 

The  diy  of  departure  came,  and,  with  many  a  hearty 
farewell  and  promise  to  revisit  them,  I  took  leave  of  the 
kind  Yules,  and  commenced  my  journey  into  the  world. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  179 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IK    WHICH    I   GO   TO   MARKET,   BUT    CANNOT    SELL    MY 
WARES. 

ON  a  cloudy  afternoon,  in  the  early  part  of  April,  behold 
me  stepping  ashore  on  the  Courtlandt  Street  pier,  from  the 
Jersey  City  ferry-boat.  Everything  was  new  and  bewilder- 
ing. The  rush  of  my  fellow-passengers  ;  the  cries  of  the 
hackmen,  brandishing  their  long  whips  ;  the  crowd  of  carts, 
drays,  and  carriages,  and  the  surge  and  swirl  of  one  chaotic 
whirlpool  of  Noise,  in  the  vortex  of  which  I  seemed  to 
stand,  stunned  and  confused  my  perceptions.  After  nearly 
losing  the  trunk  in  which  my  inestimable  manuscripts  were 
stowed,  and  paying  an  enormous  price  for  its  transfer  to  a 
thick-necked  porter,  who.  I  feared,  would  knock  me  down 
before  I  could  hand  him  the  money,  I  succeeded  in  finding 
quarters  at  Lovejoy's  Hotel,  an  establishment  which  Sep 
Bratton  had  recommended  to  me.  The  officiating  clerk, 
who  struck  me  as  a  fellow  of  very  obliging  manners,  gave 
me  a  front  room  on  the  fourth  story,  on  learning  that  I 
should  probably  remain  a  week  or  two.  I  had  neither  ati 
acquaintance  nor  a  recommendatory  letter  to  any  person  in 
the  great  city ;  but  my  funds,  I  supposed,  were  sufficient  to 
support  me  for  two  or  three  months,  and  it  was  quite  im 
possible  that  I  should  not  find  employment  by  that  time. 

I  spent  the  remainder  of  my  first  day  in  wandering 
around  the  Park  and  up  and  down  Broadway,  feasting  my 
eyes  on  the  grandeur  and  novelty  of  everything  I  saw.  I 
knew  not  which  was  most  remarkable  —  the  never-ending 
crowd  that  filled  the  chief  thoroughfare,  the  irregular  splen- 


(80  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

dor  of  the  shops,  or  the  filthiness  of  the  pavement.  With 
the  recollection  of  the  undeviating  Philadelphian  squares 
of  brick  bound  in  white  marble  in  my  mind.  I  could  with 
difficulty  comprehend  that  I  had  not  passed  into  some  for- 
eign country.  1  was  also  favorably  impressed  with  the 
apparent  friendliness  of  the  inhabitants.  Although  the 
most  of  them  passed  me  without  even  a  glance,  I  was  ac- 
costed in  the  Park  by  several  gentlemen,  who,  probably 
recognizing  the  stranger  in  my  air,  asked  me  if  I  did  not 
wish  to  see  the  city.  Indeed,  they  were  so  importunate 
that  I  had  some  difficulty  in  declining  their  proffered  ser- 
vices. Then,  as  evening  came  down  on  Broadway,  I  was 
quite  surprised  at  receiving  now  and  then  a  greeting  from 
a  superbly  dressed  lady,  who  certainly  could  never  have 
seen  me  before.  Some  of  them,  in  fact,  seemed  to  be  on 
the  point  of  speaking  to  me  ;  but  as  I  feared  they  had  mis- 
taken me  for  some  one  else,  1  hurried  away,  slightly  embar- 
rassed. 

I  was  so  impatient  to  explore  the  field  which  I  intended 
thenceforth  to  cultivate,  that,  as  soon  as  I  had  taken  break- 
fast next  morning  in  the  subterranean  restaurant  of  the 
hotel,  I  set  out  for  the  office  of  "  The  Hesperian,"  which 
was  near  at  hand,  in  Beekman  Street.  A  small  boy  was 
just  taking  down  the  shutters.  On  my  inquiring  for  Mr. 
Jenks,  he  informed  me  that  that  individual  would  be  in  at 
eleven  o'clock,  when  I  might  call  again,  if  I  wanted  to  see 
him.  During  the  intervening  three  or  four  hours  I  wan- 
dered about,  from  the  Battery  to  Canal  Street,  purchased 
and  read  two  or  three  literary  papers  I  had  never  heard  of 
before,  and  supplied  myself  with  several  manuscripts,  for 
Mr.  Jenks's  inspection. 

On  returning  to  "  The  Hesperian  "  office,  I  found  a  tall, 
thin-faced  young  man,  with  a  black  moustache,  behind  the 
counter.  He  was  making  up  bundles  of  the  magazine,  and 
the  number  of  copies  on  the  shelves  behind  him  excited 
my  amazement  Tf  this  was  Jenks.  I  thought,  no  doubt  he 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  181 

was  a  young  author  like  myself,  and  would  receive  me  with 
the  open  arms  of  fraternal  sympathy. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Jenks  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No  :   .vish  to  see  him  particular  ?  " 

It  was,  therefore,  only-  \V.  Timms,  the  "  per." 

"Anything  /can  do  for  you?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I,  "  I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Jenks 
himself,  a  moment,  if  he  's  in." 

By  way  of  answer,  he  twirled  his  left  thumb  towards  the 
back  of  the  office,  giving  a  jerk  of  his  head  in  the  same 
direction,  as  he  tied  another  bundle. 

Looking  that  way,  I  saw  that  one  corner  of  the  office 
was  partitioned  off  from  the  rest,  monopolizing  more  than 
half  the  light  of  the  back-window.  The  door  to  this  en- 
closure was  open,  and  1  could  distinguish  a  large  head, 
mounted  on  a  square  body,  within. 

Mr.  Jenks  was  absorbed  in  the  perusal  of  a  newspaper, 
which  he  held  before  him,  firmly  grasped  in  both  hands,  as 
if  about  to  tear  it  in  twain.  Before  he  looked  up,  I  had 
time  to  take  a  rapid  survey  of  his  appearance.  He  was  a 
man  of  forty-five,  short,  stout,  gray,  and  partly  bald  ;  feat- 
ures keen,  rigidly  marked,  and  with  a  hard,  material  stamp 
—  no  gleam  of  taste  or  imagination  anywhere.  He  evi- 
dently noticed  my  entrance,  but  finished  his  sentence  or 
paragraph  before  consenting  to  be  interrupted. 

"  Well  ? ''  said  he,  suddenly,  tossing  the  paper  to  one 
side  :  "  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you  remember,"  I  mildly  suggested,  "  writing 
to  me  about  my  poem  of  '  Leonora's  Dream,  which  will  be 
in  "  The  Hesperian '  for  May." 

"  What 's  your  name  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Godfrey." 

"  What 's  the  handle  to  your  '  Godfrey '  ?  " 

This  question  was  not  only  rude  but  incomprehensible. 
1  supposed,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  that  he  must  mean 
my  business  or  vocation,  and  was  about  to  explain,  when  he 
repeated, — 


182  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

a  Your  given  name  ?  " 

I  gave  it. 

He  stretched  forth  his  arm,  took  a  folio  volume  from  ita 
upright  niche  over  his  desk,  looked  at  its  index,  turned 
over  the  pages  until  he  found  what  was  probably  a  copy  of 
ihe  letter,  and  read,  jerking  out  these  words  as  he  did  so  : 

"  Yes  —  Godfrey  —  May  number  —  magazine  for  six 
months  gratuitously."  Here  he  slapped  the  volume  shut, 
replaced  it,  and  reiterated,  "  Well  ?  " 

"  I  have  brought  some  other  poems,"  I  said.  "  Perhaps 
you  might  like  some  of  them.  I  have  come  to  New  York 
to  make  literature  my  profession,  and  should  therefore  ex- 
pect to  be  paid  for  my  articles.  Here  is  a  long  narrative 
poem,  which  I  think  my  best;  it  is  a  romantic  subject  — 
4  Ossian  on  the  Hill  of  Morven.'  Would  you  like  to  look 
at  it?" 

He  took  the  proffered  manuscript,  tossed  over  leaf  after 
leaf  to  see  its  length,  and  then  addressed  me  with  unneces- 
sary energy :  "  Young  man,  this  may  be  apples  of  gold  in 
pictures  of  silver,  for  anything  I  know,  —  but  it  won't  do 
for  me.  It  would  make  ten  pages  of  the  magazine,  and 
four  a  month  is  as  much  as  I  can  allow  for  poetry.  I  have 
a  bushel-basket  full  of  contributions  which  I  can't  use. 
The  public  want  variety.  It's  a  good  thing  to  encourage 
young  writers,  and  we  reckon  to  do  our  share,  —  but  busi- 
ness is  business." 

Very  much  discouraged,  yet  unwilling  to  give  up  all  hope 
of  literary  occupation,  I  asked  whether  it  would  not  be  pos- 
sible for  me  to  furnish  articles  of  another  character. 

"  You  're  hardly  up  to  what  I  want,"  said  Mr.  Jenks. 
"  I  'd  like  to  have  a  few  short,  sentimental  stories,  to  piece 
out  with  now  and  then,  —  something  light  and  airy,"  (here 
he  made  a  spiral  upward  movement  with  his  forefinger,) 
*  such  as  women  like  to  read,  —  with  a  good  deal  of  Milli- 
nery in  them.  It  takes  practice  just  to  hit  the  mark  ic 
these  things." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  188 

"  I  might  try\  Mr.  Jenks,"  I  suggested. 
4  As  you  please.     But  I  make  no  engagements  before- 
hand,  except  with   standard  authors.      What  have    you 
there  ?  " 

I  handed  him  the  remaining  sheets,  which  contained 
various  brief  lyrics,  mostly  of  an  amatory  character.  He 
whirled  them  over  in  the  same  rapid  way,  reading  a  line 
here  and  there,  and  then  returned  them,  together  with  my 
«  Ossian." 

"  One  or  two  things  there  might  do,  if  I  was  n't  over- 
stocked," he  said.  "  Besides,  you  're  not  known,  and  your 
name  would  be  no  advantage  to  the  Magazine.  Get  a  lit- 
tle reputation,  young  man,  before  you  try  to  make  your  liv- 
ing by  literature.  Write  a  sonnet  on  a  railroad  accident, 
or  something  else  that  everybody  \ull  read,  or  have  one  of 
your  singable  poems  set  to  music  and  made  fashionable, 
and  then  I  '11  talk  to  you.  You  can't  expect  me  to  pay 
while  there 's  a  young  and  rising  genius  on  every  bush,  and 
to  be  had  for  the  picking." 

As  he  said  this,  he  turned  short  around  to  his  desk,  and 
began  opening  a  pile  of  letters.  Nothing  was  left  to  me 
but  to  retreat,  in  rather  a  disordered  manner.  W.  Timms 
gave  a  significant  glance  at  the  manuscripts  in  my  hand  as 
I  passed  out  through  the  store,  and  I  hastened  to  hide  them 
in  the  breast-pocket  of  my  coat.  I  will  not  conceal  the  fact 
that  I  was  deeply  humiliated,  not  so  much  because  my 
poems  were  refused,  as  because  I  had  voluntarily  come 
down  to  the  plane  where  I  must  submit  to  be  tested  by 
coarse,  material  standards.  I  felt  now  for  the  first  time 
that  there  is  an  Anteros,  as  well  as  an  Eros,  in  literature, 
and  the  transition  from  one  to  the  other  was  too  sudden  to 
be  made  without  a  shock.  I  began  to  fear  that  what  I  be- 
lieved to  be  Inspiration  would  accomplish  little  towards  the 
furtherance  of  my  plans,  unless  it  were  allied  to  what  I 
knew  to  be  Policy  ;  —  in  other  words,  that  my  only  chance 
of  success  with  "The  Hesperian  "  lay  in  writing  one  of  the 


184  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

short,  airy,  millinery  tales,  which  Mr.  Jenks  could  use  u  to 
piece  out  with." 

The  idea  grew  less  repulsive,  as  I  brooded  over  it  I 
found  my  mind  spontaneously  at  work,  contriving  charac- 
ters and  situations,  almost  before  I  knew  it  By  night,  I 
had  wellnigh  decided  to  make  the  attempt  Meanwhile,  I 
recognized  that  there  was  a  grain  of  truth  amid  the  harsh- 
ness of  Mr.  Jenks's  concluding  words.  I  should  certainly 
have  but  little  chance  of  obtaining  employment  unless  my 
name  were  known  to  some  extent  "  Selim,"  of  course, 
must  be  dropped,  and  "  John  Godfrey  "  stand  forth  boldly 
as  the  father  of  his  own  angelic  progeny ;  but  even  then, 
I  was  not  sure  that  the  reputation  would  immediately  fol- 
low. I  might  plunge  into  the  golden  flood  as  soon  as  I  was 
able  to  swim,  butt  how  could  I  learn  the  art  on  the  dry  land 
of  poverty  and  obscurity  ?  One  of  the  suggestions  struck 
me  as  being  plausible.  I  knew  how  eagerly  songs  are 
passed  from  voice  to  voice  through  the  country,  and  music 
seemed  a  fitting  adjunct  to  some  of  my  shorter  lyrics.  If, 
for  instance,  that  commencing  "  I  pine  for  thee  at  night 
and  morn  "  were  wedded  to  some  fair  and  tender  melody, 
it  alone  might  raise  me  in  a  short  time  from  the  darkness 

O 

of  my  estate. 

In  the  afternoon,  therefore,  I  made  another  venture. 
Not  deterred  by  the  crossed  banjos  in  the  window  of  a 
music-store,  and  the  lithograph  of  Christy's  Minstrels,  in 
costume,  on  the  title-page  of  a  publication,  I  entered  and 
offered  my  finer  wares.  I  was  received  with  more  courtesy 
than  at u  The  Hesperian  "  office,  but  the  result  was  the  same. 
The  publisher  dealt  rather  in  quadrilles,  polkas,  and  Ethio- 
pian melodies,  than  songs  of  a  sentimental  character.  He 
read  my  poems,  which  he  pronounced  very  sweet  and  ten- 
der, and  thought  they  might  be  popular,  —  but  more  de- 
pended on  the  air  than  on  the  words,  and  it  was  rather  out 
of  his  line.  His  politeness  encouraged  me  to  use  a  little 
persuasion,  yet  without  effect  He  was  sorry,  etc.,  —  undei 


JOHN   GODFREY'S    FORTUNES.  18£ 

other  circumstances,  etc.,  —  and  I  felt,  finally,  that  his 
smooth  manner  covered  a  fixed  decision.  I  went  home 
towards  evening,  with  the  manuscripts  still  in  my  pocket. 

It  is  useless  to  deny  that  my  hopes  were  somewhat  dashed 
by  the  day's  experience.  Already  the  fragrance  of  life 
began  to  drift  away,  and  the  purple  bloom  to  fade.  Even 
a  poet,  I  saw,  (and  whether  I  were  one  or  not,  this  was  the 
only  character  in  which  I  had  presented  myself,)  met  with 
a  cold  and  questioning  reception  from  the  world.  What- 
ever I  might  achieve  must  be  the  spoil,  not  the  gift,  of 
Fate :  I  must  clench  for  a  blow  the  hand  which  I  had 
stretched  out  with  an  open  palm.  All  my  petty  local 
triumphs,  my  narrow  distinctions,  my  honest  friendships, 
were  become  absolutely  nothing.  I  wore  no  badge  that 
could  be  recognized,  but  stood  naked  before  a  world  that 
would  test  every  thew  of  my  frame  before  it  clothed  me 
with  its  mantle  of  honor. 

Physical  fatigue  and  the  reaction  from  my  first  causeless 
yet  inevitable  excitement  added  to  the  gloom  of  the  mood 
that  fell  upon  me.  Let  no  one  tell  me  that  there  are  na- 
tures so  steeled  and  strung  to  their  purpose  that  they  never 
know  discouragement.  Some,  indeed,  may  always  turn  a 
brave  face  to  their  fellow-beings ;  a  few,  perhaps,  might 
sooner  die  than  betray  a  flagging  courage  ;  but  no  high 
prize  was  ever  reached  by  a  brain  unacquainted  with  doubt. 

I  read  something  —  I  forget  what  —  to  escape  from  my- 
self, and  went  early  to  bed.  There,  I  knew,  I  should  find 
a  certain  balm  for  all  moral  abrasions.  With  each  article 
of  clothing  I  laid  aside  a  heavy  thought,  and  when  my  body 
dipped  into  the  air  as  into  some  delicate,  ethereal  fluid, 
every  material  aspect  of  life  drifted  away  like  fragments  of 
a  wreck  and  left  me  the  pure  sensation  of  existence.  Then 
I  sank  into  my  bed,  as  some  wandering  spirit  might  sink  to 
rest  for  a  while,  upon  a  denser  cloud,  cool  with  dew,  yet 
warm  with  rosy  sunshine.  Every  joint  and  muscle  fell  into 
•lack,  exquisite  repose,  or,  if  sometimes  a  limb  stretched 


186  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

itself  forth  with  an  exploring  impulse,  it  was  simply  to  en 
joy  more  fully  the  consciousness  of  its  freedorr.  Mj 
breast  grew  light  and  my  heart  beat  with  an  even,  velvety 
*hrob  ;  the  restless  thoughts  laid  themselves,  one  by  one 
to  sleep,  and  gentle,  radiant  fancies  whispereu  from  the  pil- 
low. In  that  sensation  lay  for  me  almost  the  only  pure  and 
perfect  blending  of  body  and  spirit ;  —  their  natural  enmity 
forgotten,  their  wavering  bounds  of  rule  softly  obliterated, 
they  clasped  each  other  in  a  brief  embrace  of  love. 

Wretched,  thrice  wretched  is  the  man  whose  bed  has 
ceased  to  be  a  blessing  —  whose  pillow  no  longer  seems, 
while  his. eyes  close  with  a  murmured  word  of  prayer,  the 
ami  of  God,  tenderly  upholding  his  head  during  the  help- 
lessness of  Sleep ! 

In  the  morning,  I  put  on  a  portion  of  my  trouble  with 
my  clothes.  I  was  yet  without  a  moral  disinfectant,  and  the 
rustling  of  the  manuscripts  in  my  pocket  brought  back  some 
of  yesterday's  disappointment  I  had  no  intention,  how- 
ever, of  giving  up  the  struggle ;  it  had  become  a  sort  of 
conscience  with  me  to  perform  what  I  had  once  decided 
upon.  The  obligation  was  not  measured  by  the  importance 
of  the  act  I  had  half  made  up  my  mind  to  attempt  a  short 
"  millinery  "  story  for  "  The  Hesperian  "  ;  but  even  if  this 
should  fail,  there  were  other  literary  papers  and  periodicals 
in  the  city.  My  interview  with  the  music-dealer  had  left  a 
more  agreeable  impression  than  that  with  Mr.  Jenks.  Gen- 
eralizing from  single  experiences,  as  a  young  man  is  apt  to 
do,  I  suspected  that  publishers  of  songs  were  a  more  cour 
teous  and  refined  class  of  men  than  publishers  of  maga- 
zines. I  would  therefore  first  exhaust  this  class  of  chances. 

After  some  search,  I  discovered  another  music-store,  in 
the  lower  part  of  Broadway.  There  was  a  guitar  in  the 
window,  instead  of  banjos,  and  the  title-pages  represented 
young  ladies  gazing  on  the  moon,  bunches  of  forget-me- 
nots,  and  affectionate  pairs  in  crimson  gondolas.  This 
looked  promising,  and  I  entered  with  u  bold  -tf}>.  On 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  18? 

either  side  ran  a  counter,  heaped  with  squares  of  music 
sheets,  but  nobody  was  in  attendance.  Beyond  this,  an 
open  space,  in  which  pianos  stood,  and  there  I  saw  two  gen- 
tlemen, one  seated  and  playing  a  lively  air,  the  other  stand 
ing  near  him.  As  I  advanced  towards  them,  the  forme> 
looked  up  from  his  performance,  addressed  me  in  a  sharp, 
shrill  voice,  with  —  u  Wait  a  minute,  sir  !  "  and  went  on 
playing. 

I  leaned  against  the  end  of  the  counter,  and  heard  what 
followed. 

"  This  is  the  way  it  should  be  played,"  said  the  performer, 
—  "  quite  a  different  movement,  you  see,  from  yours.  I  '11 
sing  two  or  three  lines,  to  show  you  what  I  mean." 

Thereupon,  clearing  his  throat,  he  sang,  with  a  voice 
somewhat  cracked  and  husky, — 

"  When  —  I-ee  am  dying,  the  angels  will  come 
On  swift  wings  a-flying,  to  carry  me  home." 

"  There !  "  he  continued,  "  that 's  about  the  time  I  want,  out 
I  see  you  have  n't  enough  syllables  for  the  notes.  I  had 
to  say  '  a-flying '  to  stretch  the  line  out.  There  's  another 
wanted  in  the  first,  after  '  when.'  I  '11  put  in  another  '  when, 
and  you  '11  see  how  much  better  it  will  go,  and  faster. 

"  '  Whenwhen  I  am  dying,  the  angels  will  come '  "  — 

"  If  you  please,"  said  the  other  gentleman,  who,  I  now 
saw,  was  a  young,  fresh-faced,  attractive  person,  "  I  will 
jhow  how  I  meant  the  song  to  be  sung." 

He  took  his  seat  at  the  piano,  and,  with  a  weak  but  clear 
and  tuneful  voice,  sang  the  same  lines,  but  much  more 
slowly  and  with  a  different  accentuation. 

"  Oh,  thai  won't  do,  that  will  never  do  ! "  exclaimed  the 
first,  almost  pushing  him  from  the  stool.  "  It  would  n't  be 
popular  at  all ;  it 's  quite  doleful.  More  spirit,  Mr.  Swans- 
ford!  Listen  again,  —  you  must  see  that  my  idea  is  the 
best,  only  you  should  change  the  words  and  have  just  us 


188  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

many  syllables  as  notes."     Thereupon  he  sang,  to  a  gallop 
ing  accompaniment,  faster  than  ever,  — 

"  Whemvhen  I  am  dying,  the  angelswillcome 
On  swift  wingswings  flying,  to  carrymehome." 

The  young  man  looked  dejected,  and  I  could  see  that  he 
was  not  in  the  least  convinced.  "  If  you  insist  upon  having 
it  so,  Mr.  Kettlewell,"  said  he,  "  I  must  rewrite  the  music." 

"  I  have  nothing  against  the  music,  Mr.  Swansford,"  said 
the  publisher,  as  I  now  conjectured  him  to  be;  "it's  only 
the  time.  You  might,  perhaps,  put  a  little  more  brilliant 
fingering  in  the  accompaniment,  —  it  would  be  more  pop- 
ular. The  more  showy  music  is,  the  better  it  sells.  Think 
over  the  matter,  while  I  attend  to  this  gentleman." 

He  rose  from  the  piano  and  came  towards  me.  He  was 
a  small  man,  with  lively  gray  eyes,  a  hooked  nose,  and  a 
shrivelled  throat  "  Business  "  was  written  upon  his  face 
no  less  distinctly  than  on  that  of  Mr.  Jenks,  though  in  dif- 
ferent hieroglyphics.  He  was  easier  to  encounter,  but,  I 
feared,  more  difficult  to  move.  I  told  him  in  a  few  words 
what  I  wanted,  and  offered  him  my  lyrics  for  inspection. 
They  began  already  to  seem  a  little  battered  in  my  eyes ; 
they  were  no  longer  wild-flowers,  fresh  with  dew,  but  wilted 
vegetables  in  a  market-basket. 

"  Hm  —  hm,"  said  he,  "  the  words  are  good  in  their  way, 
though  it  is  n't  much  matter  about  their^,  if  the  subject  is 
popular  and  the  air  is  taking.  I  don't  often  do  this  sort  of 
thing,  Mr.—?" 

"  Godfrey,"  I  remarked. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Godfrey.  The  name  seems  familiar.  What 
songs  of  yours  are  in  circulation  ? " 

I  was  obliged  to  confess  that  none  of  my  effusions  had 
yet  been  sung.  Always  detected  as  a  beginner !  It  is  very 
likely  that,  for  a  single  second,  I  may  have  felt  a  tempta- 
tion to  lie. 

"  That  makes  a  difference,"  he  said.     "  It  's  risky      Bui 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  189 

If  you  11  leave  them,  1 11  show  them  to  my  composer,  and 
see  what  he  thinks.  How  much  a  piece  do  you  want  for 
them  ?  I  always  like  to  know  terms  in  advance." 

Thankful  not  to  have  received  a  downright  rebuff,  I  in- 
formed him  that  I  was  ignorant  of  the  usual  remuneration, 
but  would  be  satisfied  with  whatever  he  should  think  them 
worth. 

"  Well,"  he  observed,  "  I  mostly  get  common,  sentimental 
songs  for  a  dollar.  There 's  Spenser  G.  Bryan,  to  be  sure, 
he  has  five  dollars,  but  then  his  songs  are  always  fashion 
able,  and  the  sale  makes  up  the  difference  to  me.  You 
could  n't  expect  to  compete  with  a  Spenser  G.  Bryan,  so  I 
suppose  a  dollar  would  be  about  the  right  thing." 

As  he  paused,  awaiting  an  answer,  I  modestly  signified 
my  assent,  although  the  sum  seemed  to  me  terribly  insig- 
nificant. At  that  rate  I  should  have  to  write  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty -five  songs  in  a  year,  in  order  barely  to  live ! 
After  being  notified  that  I  might  call  again  in  eight  or  ten 
days,  to  learn  the  composer's  decision,  I  took  leave  of  Mr 
Kettlewell. 

This  transaction  gave  me  at  least  a  momentary  courage- 
It  promised  to  be  a  stepping-stone,  if  of  the  smallest  and 
most  slippery  character.  There  was  also  this  pitiful  conso- 
lation, —  that  I  was  not  the  only  aspiring  young  author, 
struggling  to  rise  out  of  obscurity.  I  could  not  doubt  that 
the  young  man  —  Mr.  Swansford  —  had  come  on  an  errand 
similar  to  mine.  He  was  perhaps  a  little  further  advanced 
—  had  commenced  his  career,  but  not  as  yet  emerged  from 
its  first  obstructions.  I  longed  to  make  his  acquaintance, 
and  therefore  lingered  near  the  place.  In  a  few  minutes 
he  issued  from  the  store,  with  a  roll  of  paper  in  his  hand. 
His  head  was  bent,  and  his  whole  air  expressed  discourage- 
ment :  one  hand  crushed  the  paper  it  grasped,  while  the 
other  was  clenched,  as  it  hung  by  his  side. 

Presently  he  seemed  to  become  magnetically  aware  of 
my  gaze,  and  looked  up.  I  noticed  now,  that  his  skin  was 


190  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

quite  transparent,  and  there  were  dark  shades  under  hi? 
eyes.  He  wore  a  very  silky  moustache,  and  had  a  soft, 
straggling  tuft  on  his  chin  ;  yet,  even  with  these  masculine 
indications,  his  face  was  delicate  as  a  young  girl's.  I  recog 
nized  a  kinship  of  some  sort  between  us,  and,  fancying  that 
I  read  a  similar  recognition  in  his  eyes,  I  said  to  him,  with- 
out further  prelude, — 

"  You  sang  the  song  correctly." 

"  Did  I  not  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  heard  how  he  butch- 
ered it ;  —  was  ever  anything  so  stupid  and  so  profane  ? 
But  he  won't  hear  of  anything  else ;  I  must  change  it. 
You  offered  him  songs,  too,  I  noticed.  Do  you  compose  ?  " 

"  Only  words  —  not  music." 

"  Then  you  can  only  half  understand  what  I  must  put  up 
with.  You  see  I  always  write  the  melody  first :  it 's  more 
to  me  than  the  poetry.  If  I  knew  a  poet  who  understood 
music,  and  could  give  its  sentiment  truly  in  words,  I  should 
not  try  to  write  them  myself." 

"  I  wish  you  had  seen  the  songs  I  just  left  with  your  pub- 
lisher !  "  I  eagerly  exclaimed.  "  But  I  have  others  in  my 
trunk.  Will  you  come  to  my  room  and  look  over  them, 
Mr.  Swansford  ?  " 

He  accepted  the  invitation,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour 
or  two  we  became  very  well  acquainted  indeed.  We  inter- 
changed biographies,  and  were  delighted  to  find  here  and 
there  a  point  of  resemblance.  He  was  a  native  of  a  small 
town  in  Connecticut,  where  his  parents  —  persons  of  lim- 
ited means  —  still  lived.  He  had  already  been  a  year  in 
the  city,  studying  music  on  a  ftmd  derived  from  his  moder- 
ate savings  as  teacher  of  a  singing-class  at  home.  He  was 
four  or  five  years  older  than  myself,  and  thus  possessed  a 
little  more  experience  of  the  ways  of  the  world  ;  but  he 
never  had,  and  never  would,  overcome  his  distaste  for  the 
hard,  practical  materialism  which  he  encountered  on  every 
side.  A  few  of  his  songs  had  been  published,  and  had 
attained  a  moderate  success,  without  bringing  him  much 


TGHtf   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  191 

remuneration.  He  was  now  far  enough  advanced  in  his  mu- 
sical studies,  however,  to  give  lessons,  and  should  rely  upon 
them  for  support  while  elaborating  his  great  musical  designs. 
I  dimly  felt,  in  the  course  of  our  conversation,  the  presence 
of  a  purer  and  loftier  ideal  than  my  own.  The  first  half- 
unconscious  contrast  of  our  natures  presented  him  sublimed 
and  etherealized  beside  the  sensuous  love  of  Beauty  which 
was  my  strongest  characteristic. 

We  parted  on  good  terms  with  each  other  —  almost  as 
friends.  That  evening  I  returned  his  visit,  at  his  boarding- 
house  in  the  triangular  region  between  the  Bowery  and  East 
Broadway.  He  had  an  attic  room,  with  a  dormer-window 
looking  out  on  a  realm  of  narrow  back-yards,  divided  by 
board-walls,  which  had  received  such  a  nap  from  the  weather 
that  they  resembled  felt  rather  than  wood.  A  bed,  cottage- 
piano,  and  chest  of  drawers  so  filled  up  the  room  that  there 
was  barely  space  for  a  little  table  squeezed  into  the  hollow 
of  the  window,  and  two  chairs.  He  had  no  stove,  and  could 
only  obtain  a  partial  warmth  in  winter  by  leaving  his  door 
open  to  catch  the  atmosphere  from  below.  Above  his  bed 
hung  lithographic  heads  of  Mendelssohn  and  Beethoven. 
Poor  and  starved  as  \vas  the  aspect  of  the  room,  there 
was  nevertheless  something  attractive  in  Its  atmosphere. 
It  was  not  beautiful  by  day.  but  was  admirably  adapted 
to  the  inidniirht  isolation  of  irenius. 


191  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

COHCERNING  MY    ENTRANCE    INTO    MRS.  VERY's  BOARDllf  Jh 
HOUSE,  AND    VARIOUS    OTHER    MATTERS. 

MY  acquaintance  with  Swansford,  at  that  period  of  my 
fortunes,  was  a  piece  of  good  luck  for  which  I  have  ever 
since  been  thankful.  I  derived  a  certain  sort  of  consolation 
—  selfish,  no  doubt,  but  very  natural  —  from  the  knowledge 
that  his  circumstances  were  scarcely  better  than  my  own. 
his  future  equally  uncertain.  Without  a  friendly  acquaint- 
ance, whose  respect  I  desired  to  retain,  I  should  probably 
have  succumbed  to  the  repeated  rebuffs  I  experienced,  ana 
given  up  my  chosen  career  in  despair.  The  thought  of 
Amanda  was  a  powerful  stimulant,  it  was  true,  but  the 
breadth  of  New  Jersey  divided  her  from  me.  Here,  how- 
ever, was  an  ever-present  eye  which  must  not  be  allowed  to 
discover  my  flagging  courage.  I  must  make  good  to  him 
my  first  boast,  and  counterfeit  a  certain  amount  of  energy, 
until  the  force  of  habit  transformed  it  into  the  genuine 
article.  The  efforts  I  made  were  not  without  their  results 
in  my  nature,  and,  since  I  have  come  to  understand  myself 
better,  I  am  reconciled  to  that  mixture  of  pride  and  vanity 
to  which  I  can  now  trace  so  many  of  my  actions. 

During  the  succeeding  week  I  made  many  additional 
liiuls,  persevering  after  each  failure,  finally,  from  a  curi- 
osity to  assure  myself  that  my  original  plans  were  indeed 
futile.  One  or  two  literary  editors  accepted  a  poem  from 
me  as  an  unpaid  contribution,  but  no  one  was  willing  to 
purchase.  My  only  prospect  of  earning  a  trifle  dwindled 
down  to  the  short  '•  milhuery  "  story,  which  I  completed 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  193 

and  carried  to  Mr.  Jenks,  who  promised  to  read  it  "  in  the 
course  of  the  week."  Mr.  Kettlewell's  composer  had  no 
objections  to  make  in  regard  to  the  songs  submitted  to  his 
inspection  :  they  were  smooth  and  sentimental,  he  said,  and 
if  he  had  time,  he  might  marry  some  of  them  to  his  im- 
mortal music  ;  but  he  was  now  busily  engaged  in  preparing 
two  new  quadrilles  and  a  polka. 

I  confided  these  experiences  to  Swansford,  who  did  not 
seem  to  be  in  the  least  surprised  ;  so  I,  also,  pretended  to 
take  them  as  a  matter  of  course.  Meai  while,  my  little 
stock  of  money  was  beginning  to  go,  and  prudence  advised 
me  to  enter  upon  a  more  economical  mode  of  living.  About 
this  time  the  front  attic  in  Swansford's  boarding-house  be- 
came vacant,  and  I  considered  myself  fortunate  in  being 
able  to  secure  it,  with  board,  for  three  dollars  and  a  half 
per  week.  Swansford  took  me  down  to  a  dark  parlor  on 
the  first  floor,  and  summoned  Mrs.  Very,  who  kept  the 
establishment.  It  was  a  splendid  apartment ;  the  carpet- 
pattern  was  of  immense  size,  and  the  furniture  real  ma- 
hogany and  horse-hair.  I  was  obliged  to  wait  some  time 
before  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Very,  —  a  tall,  middle-aged 
lady  with  an  aquiline  nose.  A  cap  with  crimson  ribbons 
and  streamers  was  thrown  upon  her  head,  concealing  to 
some  extent  the  frowziness  of  her  hair,  and  a  heavy  velvet 
cape  on  her  shoulders  was  so  confused  in  its  fastenings  that 
one  side  was  an  inch  higher  than  the  other.  In  the  dim 
atmosphere,  nevertheless,  she  was  rather  an  imposing 
presence  and  suggested  to  me  at  once  the  idea  of  an 
unfortunate  duchess. 

Swansford  performed  the  ceremony  of  introduction, 
stating  my  wish  to  become  the  occupant  of  the  vacant 
room.  The  lady  bent  her  piercing  eyes  upon  me  and  took 
a  silent  survey  of  my  form. 

"  I  have  not  given  out  the  room  yet,"  she  remarked. 
u  Miss  Dunlap  spoke  to  me  of  her  cousin  wanting  it,  but 
I  did  n't  promise  positive.  I  wish  to  form  an  agreeable 
13 


194  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

family,  and  would  rather  be  vacant  for  a  week  or  two  than 
have  them  that  don't  seem  rightly  to  belong  to  our  domestic 
circle.  There  are  now  three  ladies  and  two  gentlemen, 
you  know,  Mr.  Swansford ;  so  it  would  seem  proper  for  me 
to  take  another  gentleman.  Mr.  Godfrey,  I  suppose,  would 
not  be  likely  to  have  lots  of  visitors  till  midnight  or  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  scarcely  know  anybody  in 
New  York  except  Mr.  Swansford." 

"  That  would  be  a  recommendation,"  Mrs.  Very  reflect- 
ing ly  observed.  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mortimer  having  the  room 
under  you  ;  they  're  the  oldest  members  of  my  family  and 
stand  by  me  faithful.  Them  that  know  me  generally  do. 
Our  circle  is  the  best  in  Hester  Street,  and  I  often  have 
competition  for  my  vacancies.  I  'm  mostly  full,  all  summer, 
when  other  people,  who  are  not  particular  as  to  genteel 
boarders,  are  half  empty." 

Mrs.  Very  finally  informed  me  that  she  would  make  up 
her  mind  that  evening,  and  dismissed  us  with  a  stately 
salutation.  I  should  have  gone  away  in  great  doubt,  had 
not  Swansford  whispered  to  me,  at  the  door,  "  That  'a 
always  her  way  of  talking.  She  has  taken  you  already." 

This  proved  to  be  the  case.  The  next  morning  one  of 
Lovejoy's  porters  followed  me  up  Chatham  Street  with  my 
trunk,  and  I  took  possession  of  the  coveted  attic.  Mrs. 
Very's  residence  was  a  narrow  three-story  house  of  brick, 
with  wooden  steps  and  a  small  platform  before  the  door. 
This  was  called  "  the  stoop."  The  house  was  two  or  three 
blocks  removed  from  the  noise  of  the  Bowery,  and  its  neigh- 
borhood wore  an  aspect  both  of  quiet  and  decay.  The 
street  was  rarely  cleaned,  and  its  atmosphere  was  generally 
flavored  with  Ihe  smells  arising  from  boxes  of  ashes  and 
kitchen-refuse  which  stood  on  the  sidewalks  awaiting  re- 
moval. Most  pf  the  houses  were  only  of  two  stories,  some 
of  them  of  wood,  and  Mrs.  Very's  thus  received  a  certain 
distinction.  Whether  or  not.  the  hall  was  swept,  the  brass 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  19fi 

plate  on  the  door,  with  her  name,  was  always  brightly 
scoured.  Not  far  off,  on  th^e  opposite  side  of  the  street 
there  was  a  blind  alley,  leading  to  some  hidden  cluster  of 
tenements,  whence  issued  swarms  of  dirty,  ragged,  and  sav- 
age children. 

The  room  to  which  I  was  conducted  was  almost  a  fac- 
simile of  Swanford's.  It  commanded  a  view  of  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  street,  and  overlooked  the  mysteries  of  sev- 
eral second  floors.  The  absence  of  a  piano  made  it  seem 
more  spacious ;  its  appointments,  such  as  they  were,  were 
complete  ;  and,  indeed,  I  was  not  so  accustomed  to  lux- 
ury as  to  find  the  least  fault  with  them.  The  wall  was 
papered  gray,  with  a  large  blue  pattern,  and  there  was  a 
faded  and  frayed  ingrain  carpet  on  the  floor.  A  very  small 
stand  of  pine-wood,  with  a  drawer  for  soap,  held  the  wash- 
bowl and  pitcher ;  the  thin  little  towel  was  suspended  from 
a  nail  I  had,  further,  an  old  chest  with  three  drawers,  sur- 
mounted by  a  square  foot  of  mirror,  and,  as  Swansford  had 
dropped  a  hint  that  I  was  a  young  man  of  literary  habite, 
Mrs.  Very  considerately  added  a  little  table,  with  one 
shrunk  leg,  which  I  steadied  by  means  of  folded  newspa- 
pers. The  bed  was  smaller  and  harder  than  any  I  had  be- 
fore occupied.  The  change  from  the  spacious  beds  of 
Berks  County  was  like  that  from  a  pond  to  a  bath-tub,  and 
I  could  no  longer  stretch  myself  in  all  directions  with  im- 
punity. It  was  symbolic  of  the  contraction  which  my  hopes 
and  my  plans  had  suffered. 

Swansford  had  obtained  two  or  three  pupils,  at  moderate 
terms,  in  the  vicinity,  and  these,  with  his  own  studies,  kept 
him  employed  the  greater  part  of  the  day  ;  but  I  had  _oth- 
ing  to  do  except  write  and  keep  my  eyes  open  for  any  Chance 
that  might  turn  up.  When  we  met  for  dinner  at  five 
o'clock,  —  which  hour  had  been  chosen  by  Mrs.  Very,  as 
she  informed  me,  on  account  of  Mr.  Mortimer,  who  was  as- 
sistant teller  in  one  of  the  Bowery  Banks,  —  I  was  formally 
presented  to  my  fellow-boarders.  Mr.  Mortimer  was  a 


196  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

grave,  middle-sized  man  of  forty,  whose  authority  in  that 
genteel  circle  was  evidently  only  less  than  the  landlady's. 
The  outward  projection  of  his  right  ear-flap,  and  a  horizontal 
groove  in  his  short  hair,  showed  that  the  pen  had  grown  to 
be  a  member  of  his  body.  His  wife,  a  lady  some  five  years 
younger,  was  taller  than  himself,  though  in  dignity  of  de 
portment  she  harmonized  fully.  Her  neck  was  a  very  stiff 
prolongation  of  her  spine,  and  she  had  a  way  of  bending 
her  head  the  least  in  the  world  when  she  spoke  to  you,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  I  will  subdue  my  feelings  and  condescend 
to  speak."  She  was  always  dressed  in  dark  silk,  and  her 
skirts  rustled  a  great  deal.  Even  in  my  attic,  whenever  I 
heard  a  shrill,  sweeping  noise,  like  the  wind  through  a  dead 
thorn-bush,  I  knew  that  Mrs.  Mortimer  was  passing  up  or 
down-stairs. 

The  two  remaining  ladies  were  Miss  Tatting,  and  her 
niece,  Miss  Dunlap.  The  former  kept  a  trimming-store  in 
Grand  Street,  in  which  the  latter  officiated  as  her  assistant. 
There  was  less  difference  between  the  ages  of  the  ladies 
than  their  relationship  would  indicate.  It  was  difficult,  in 
fact,  to  decide  upon  this  question,  especially  in  the  case  of 
the  former  ;  she  might  have  been  twenty-five  and  old-look- 
ing, or  carrying  forty  summers  with  an  air  of  youth.  The 
necessity  of  unbending  to  her  customers  had  given  her  an 
easy,  familiar  manner,  which  seemed  occasionally  to  shock 
the  delicate  sensibilities  of  Mrs.  Mortimer.  Though  com- 
paratively uncultivated,  she  had  a  good  deal  of  natural 
shrewdness,  and  was  well  skilled  in  the  use  of  her  tongue. 
Her  niece  was  cast  in  a  similar  yet  softer  mould.  A  vein 
of  sentiment,  somewhat  weak  and  faded  now,  to  be  sure, 
ran  through  her  composition.  But  she  was  an  amiable 
creature,  and  I  have  not  the  heart  to  dwell  upon  this  little 
weakness,  even  if  it  had  been  more  grotesquely  developed. 

When  Mrs.  Very  took  her  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table 
(Mr.  Mortimer  facing  her  at  the  foot),  her  face  was  still 
flushed  from  her  superintendence  in  the  kitchen,  but  her 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES  197 

hair  had  been  rapidly  compelled  to  order,  a  silk  cape  waj 
substituted  for  the  velvet  one,  and  correctly  fastened.  A 
small  black  girl  stood  at  her  elbow. 

No  grace  was  said,  although  the  landlady  waited  until 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mortimer  had  lifted  their  eyes  from  their 
plates.  Then  she  questioned  each  of  us  in  turn.  "  Shall  T 
send  you  some  of  the  soup  to-day  ?  "  After  the  soup.  Mi . 
Mortimer  carved  a  piece  of  roast-beef,  while  Mrs.  Very  ad- 
dressed herself  to  a  diminutive  remainder  of  cold  ham. 
Potatoes,  turnips,  and  spinage  boiled  in  an  uncut,  tangled 
mass,  completed  the  repast 

Conversation  rose  as  appetite  declined,  and  after  various 
commonplaces  had  been  discussed,  Mrs,  Very  suddenly  ex 
claimed,  "  Who  do  you  think  I  met,  coming  home  from 
market,  Mrs.  Mortimer  ?  " 

The  lady  addressed  slightly  curved  her  neck  and  an- 
swered, in  the  mild  voice  of  propriety,  u  I  'm  sure  I  don't 
know." 

"  Her ! " 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Mrs.  Mortimer. 

"  You  don't  mean  Mrs.  Gamble,  now,  do  you  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Tatting,  suspending  her  fork  in  the  air. 

"  Mrs.  Gamble  ! "  echoed  Mrs.  Very,  with  an  air  of  tri 
umph.  "They  were  walking  together,  and  there  was  nc 
mistaking  her  at  once.  She  seems  to  carry  her  head  high 
enough,  for  all  the  trouble,  and  I  should  n't  wonder  if 
they  'd  cave  in,  though  they  have  said  he  should  never 
darken  their  doors.  I  've  asked  them  to  come  around  to 
tea  some  evening." 

"  Will  they  come  ?  "  all  three  of  the  ladies  exclaimed  at 
once. 

"  They  promised  positive  they  would,  but  could  n't  name 
the  day  certain.  He  does  n't  look  a  bit  down  about  it,  I 
(mist  say.  Perhaps  they  '11  come  round  when  they  find  it 
only  hurts  themselves.  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  that  I  could 
n't  ask  many  questions." 


198  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

This  theme  was  pursued  by  Mrs.  Vary's  domestic  circle 
frith  lively  interest  I  gradually  discovered  that  Mr.  Gam- 
ble was  my  own  predecessor  in  the  attic  room,  and  at  the 
genteel  board  where  I  now  sat. 

The  occasion  of  his  leaving  was  his  marriage  with  the 
daughter  of  a  prosperous  shoe-dealer,  who  was  opposed  to 
the  match  on  account  of  Mr.  Gamble  being  only  clerk  for 
a  soap-boiling  firm.  The  young  lady,  however,  had  a  will 
of  her  own,  and  boldly  married,  in  defiance  of  her  par- 
ents. She  had  not  returned  home  after  the  ceremony,  but 
sent  for  her  wardrobe,  which  the  angry  father  refused  to 
give  up.  The  happy  couple  made  a  short  wedding-trip  to 
the  bridegroom's  relatives  in  the  country,  and  were  just  re- 
turning to  the  city  when  Mrs.  Very  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
intercept  them.  Of  course,  everybody  at  the  table  espoused 
the  cause  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gamble,  the  former  being  still 
claimed  as  a  member  of  the  family.  It  was  well  known 
that  he  would  have  remained,  but  for  the  lack  of  proper 
accommodations,  and  I  fancy  Mrs.  Mortimer  would  have 
willingly  seen  a  vacancy  made  for  the  romantic  pair,  by  the 
removal  of  Miss  Tatting  and  her  niece. 

By  the  time  our  dessert  of  rice-pudding  was  reached,  this 
topic  had  been  quite  exhausted,  and  the  conversation  be- 
came mixed  and  lively.  I  talked  across  the  table  to  Swans- 
ford  about  a  story  which  had  just  appeared  in  one  of  the 
Philadelphia  magazines,  while  Mrs.  Very's  and  Mr.  Morti- 
mer's remarks  crossed  ours  at  right  angles.  Miss  Dunlap 
listened  to  us,  and  her  aunt  was  occupied  with  the  stately 
Mrs.  Mortimer,  apparently  on  the  mysteries  of  dress,  for  I 
caught  such  phrases  as  "  a  great  demand  for  chenilles.' 
"  corn-color  coming  up  again,"  etc.  etc. 

The  same  scene  repeated  itself  every  day  —  with  slight 
variations.  We  had  veal  sometimes,  instead  of  beef,  and 
tapioca  instead  of  rice.  Mrs.  Mortimer  walked  in  Broad- 
way, and  often  found  subjects  for  short,  decorous,  conde- 
scending narratives.  Swansford  was  questioned  about  hia 


JOHN'    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  199 

musical  compositions,  and  variously  advised,  —  Miss  Dunlap 
hoping  that  he  would  write  an  opera,  while  Mrs.  Mortimer 
thought  an  oratorio  would  be  much  more  elevated.  The 
boarding-houses  of  Bevins  and  Applegate,  in  the  same  street, 
were  discussed  with  acrid  satire,  in  which  Mrs.  Very  heart- 
ily joined.  In  short,  the  latter's  effort  to  create  a  harmo- 
nious domestic  circle  was  entirely  successful,  so  far  as  the 
satisfaction  of  the  members  with  themselves  was  concerned. 

I  had  been  an  inmate  of  the  house  about  a  week  when  I 
achieved  my  first  success.  Mr.  Jenks,  after  postponing  his 
decision  and  keeping  me  on  thorns  for  three  days  longer, 
finally  made  up  his  mind  to  accept  my  millinery  story,  with 
the  proviso  that  I  changed  the  denouement,  and  instead  of  an 
elopement  reconciled  lanthe's  parents  to  the  match.  "  The 
Hesperian,"  he  said,  was  a  family  magazine,  and  designed  to 
contain  nothing  which  could  plant  an  unconventional  or 
rebellious  thought  in  the  breast  of  infancy.  There  had 
been  several  elopements  in  the  previous  stories,  and  he  had 
already  heard  complaints.  The  article  was  pleasantly  writ 
ten,  and  he  thought  I  might  succeed  in  that  line,  provided 
I  took  care  to  "  give  a  moral  turn  "  to  my  sketches.  What 
could  I  do  ?  Swansford's  experience  with  Kettlewell  now 
came  home  to  me  with  a  vengeance,  but  I  grinned  (I  am 
afraid  I  came  very  near  cursing)  and  endured.  For  the 
story  thus  mutilated  I  was  to  receive  five  dollars  after  its 
appearance.  I  immediately  commenced  another  story,  in 
which  the  characters  were  absolute  angels  and  devils,  wind- 
ing up  by  assigning  the  former  to  Paradise  and  the  latter 
to  Hades  The  moral  of  that,  I  thought,  would  be  plain 
enough. 

I  now  wrote  a  page  to  Dan  Yule,  stating  that  I  was  well 
and  hoped  he  was,  with  a  few  little  particulars  of  my  life, 
which  I  thought  would  interest  him.  Inclosed  was  a  letter 
of  sixteen  pages  for  Amanda,  in  which  the  joys  of  love, 
the  sorrows  of  absence,  and  the  longings  for  that  assured 
future  which  would  bring  us  together  again,  were  mixed  in 


200  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

equal  proportions.  I  know  that  my  mind,  released  irora 
the  restraints  imposed  by  publishers  of  moral  and  millinery 
tales,  poured  itself  out  freely  and  delightedly  to  the  one 
ear  which  would  hear  me  aright  It  was  my  first  letter, 
and  I  doubt  whether  her  joy  in  receiving  it  was  greatei 
than  mine  in  writing  it 

Swansford  knew  nothing,  as  yet,  of  my  attachment.  Al 
though  we  had  become  earnest  friends,  I  could  not  open  to 
hiir.  this  chamber  of  my  heart  Our  talk  was  mostly  ujion 
our  "  kindred  arts,"  as  we  styled  them.  I  was  even  more 
desirous  than  he  to  supply  the  words  for  his  own  melodies, 
and  we  made,  one  day,  a  double  experiment  I  gave  him 
my  last  and,  of  course,  sweetest  song,  taking  in  return  a 
pensive,  plaintive  air  which  he  had  just  written,  and  sel 
myself  to  express  it  in  words  as  he  mine  in  music.  The 
result  was  only  partially  satisfactory.  I  reproduced,  toler- 
ably, the  sentiment  of  the  air,  but  I  was  ignorant  of  the 
delicate  affinity  between  certain  vowel  sounds  and  certain 
musical  notes  —  whence,  though  my  lines  were  better  than 
Swansford's,  they  were  not  half  so  easy  to  sing.  This  dis- 
covery led  to  a  long  conversation  and  an  examination  01 
the  productions  of  various  popular  song-writers,  the  result 
of  which  was  an  astonishing  conviction  of  my  own  igno- 
rance. 

I  should  have  enjoyed  this  vagabond  life  thoroughly, 
nevertheless,  but  for  the  necessity  which  impelled  me  to 
secure  some  sort  of  provision  for  the  future.  I  saw  no  way 
of  reaching  the  Olympian  society  of  the  celebrated  authors, 
or  in  otherwise  dragging  myself  out  of  the  double  insignifi- 
cance (compared  with  my  position  in  Upper  Samaria)  into 
which  I  had  fallen.  Week  after  week  went  by,  yielding 
me  nothing  but  an  accumulation  of  manuscripts.  I  was 
obliged  to  procure  a  few  better  articles  of  clothing  than  I 
had  brought  with  me.  and  this  made  a  great  hole  in  my 
rands.  Indeed,  with  strict  economy,  they  would  barely  last 
another  month.  Many  a  night  I  lay  awake,  revolving  plans 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  20] 

wrhich  brightened  and  grew  rosy  with  the  excitement  of  my 
Drain  ;  but,  when  morning  came,  the  color  had  faded  out 
of  them,  and  they  seemed  the  essence  of  absurdity. 

I  was  not  devoid  of  practical  faculties,  but  they  had  hith- 
erto lain  dormant,  or  been  suppressed  by  the  activity  of  the 
tastes  and  desires  first  awakened.  I  now  began  to  find  a 
wide  vibration  in  my  nature,  between  the  moods  of  night 
and  day  ;  but  their  reciprocal  action  hastened  my  develop- 
ment Still,  I  was  at  heart  a  boy,  and  troubled  with  a  boy's 
restless  impatience.  I  had  no  suspicion  of  the  many  and 
the  inevitable  throes  which  men  as  well  as  planets  nus( 
endure,  before  chaos  is  resolved  into  form. 


202  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORT  ONES. 


CHAPTER  XVL 

DESCRIBING    MR.  WINCH'S   RECONCILIATION    BALL  AND   1W 
TWO  FORTUNATE  CONSEQUENCES. 

A  FORTNIGHT  after  my  introduction  into  Mrs.  Very's  do- 
mestic circle,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gamble  redeemed  their  prom- 
ise of  coming  to  tea.  The  important  event  was  announced 
at  dinner  on  the  previous  day,  and  little  else  was  spoken 
of  until  the  appointed  evening  came.  Mrs.  Very  informed 
us,  with  a  solemn  air,  that  we  should  assemble  in  the  parlor 
instead  of  the  basement  dining-room :  Mr.  Gamble,  as  a 
member  of  her  family,  should  be  treated  just  as  well  as 
if  he  were  her  own  brother  ("  son,"  I  thought,  would  have 
been  more  appropriate),  and  the  Winches  should  see  what 
her  behavior  was,  as  compared  with  theirs.  They  might 
hurt  her,  if  they  liked :  thank  Fortune,  her  house  was  well- 
known,  and  her  boarders  stood  by  her  faithful. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Mortimer,  with  becoming  gravity,  "  we 
must  give  Gamble  a  lift,  now  he  's  in  trouble.  Old  Winch 
keeps  his  deposits  in  our  bank,  but  I  won't  let  that  stand 
between  me  and  what 's  right" 

Mrs.  Mortimer  bent  her  stiff  neck  assentingly. 

We  were  all  seated  in  the  parlor  when  the  bell  rang. 
Mrs,  Very  triumphantly  issued  into  the  hall  and  received 
the  interesting  couple,  while  we  waited  in  silent  expecta- 
tion until  the  usual  rustling  up  and  down  stairs  should  an 
nounce  that  the  bride  had  adjusted  her  toilette.  Then  she 
entered,  dark,  full,  and  voluptuous  in  her  form,  and  resplen- 
dent in  a  dead  golden-colored  silk.  Mr.  Gamble,  besidt 
her,  dwindled  into  a  very  commonplace  individual,  as  he 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  208 

-..7  doubt  was.  He  was  cordially,  if  somewhat  stiffly,  con- 
gratulated—  for  the  Very  idea  of  gentility  was  too  con- 
scious of  itself  to  be  easy  —  by  his  old  friends,  and  the 
bride  received  the  same  with  an  added  tint  of  gracious 
deference.  She,  however,  understood  the  interest  of  her 
position,  and  determined  to  enjoy  it. 

"  Oh,  I  have  heard  of  you  all,  from  Harry  ! "  she  ex 
claimed,  shaking  hands  with  everybody,  even  myself,  to 
whom  she  said,  —  "  So,  you  have  fallen  heir  to  his  room  ! 
Don't  you  let  him  in,  if  he  ever  repents  of  his  bargain  a^d 
wants  to  come  back  ! " 

Then  she  cast  a  loving,  mischievous  glance  at  her  hus- 
band, who  was  radiant  with  pride  at  the  gay  fascination  of 
her  manner.  "  Now  you  see,  Laura,  from  what  company 
you  have  taken  me  away,"  he  said,  with  a  semicircular 
bow  which  embraced  Mrs.  Very,  Mrs.  Mortimer,  and  Miss 
Tatting.  "  It  was  a  hard  struggle,  I  assure  you."  And  he 
heaved  a  mock  sigh. 

"  You  can't  make  us  believe  that,"  said  Miss  Tatting, 
tapping  him  on  the  arm  with  a  large  green  fan. 

This  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  conversation  during  tea. 
It  was  not  very  intellectual,  I  admit,  but  it  was  quite  a 
pleasant  and  entertaining  change  from  our  usual  routine, 
and  I  enjoyed  it  amazingly.  Mrs.  Gamble  was  the  life  of 
the  company.  Being  privileged  to  give  the  tone  of  the 
evening,  she  did  so  with  a  will,  and  it  was  astonishing  how 
much  fun  and  laughter  we  produced  from  the  most  trifling 
themes.  After  her  departure  we  were  all  loud  in  our  ex- 
pressions of  admiration.  It  was  decided,  without  a  dissent 
ing  voice,  that  Mrs.  Very's  family  circle  would  henceforth 
espouse  the  cause  of  the  Gambles  against  the  Winches. 

About  the  middle  of  May,  however,  we  were  surprised  by 
a  rumor  that  the  unnatural  father  had  been  led,  either  by 
policy  or  penitence,  to  relent,  and  that  Mr.  Gamble  would 
shortly  give  up  his  situation  in  the  soap-boiling  establish- 
ment, to  take  an  important  post  in  Winch  &  Son's  shoe- 


204  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

store.  I  know  not  whether  Mrs.  Very  or  the  Mortimers 
were  most  flattered  by  this  news :  either  party  was  sure 
that  their  countenance  of  the  match  had  something  to  do 

O 

with  it.  The  climax  to  the  general  satisfaction  was  given 
by  a  package  of  notes  which  came,  a  few  days  afterwards, 
stating  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Franklin  Winch  requested  the 
pleasure  of  our  company,  on  Thursday  evening,  at  their 
residence,  No.  322  Columbia  Street 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  comprehending  the  nature  of 
this  event.  Mr.  Winch,  having  made  up  his  mind  to  do 
the  proper  thing,  intended  to  do  it  in  the  proper  way, 
crushing  gossip  and  family  estrangement  with  the  same 
blow.  The  temptation  to  attend  the  ball  was  too  great  to 
be  resisted,  and  our  inveterate  hostility  to  the  Winches 
came  therefore  to  a  sudden  end. 

When  the  evening  arrived,  we  marched  across  the  Grand- 
Street  region,  like  a  well-ordered  family,  Mrs.  Very  taking 
Mr.  Mortimer's  other  arm,  Miss  Tatting  Swansford's,  and 
Miss  Dunlap  mine.  A  waiter,  hi  white  cotton  gloves,  whom 
I  at  first  took  for  Winch  junior,  received  us  at  the  door, 
and  ushered  us  up-stairs  to  our  respective  dressing-rooms. 
Here  were  various  other  gentlemen,  giving  the  finishing 
touch  to  their  scented  and  glistening  hair,  and  drawing  on 
their  new  white  kids.  I  imitated  their  movements,  and 
tried  my  best  to  appear  at  ease  and  au  fait  to  such  occa- 
sions. When  we  descended  to  the  parlor,  Mr.  Gamble 
came  forward  at  once  to  greet  us,  and  presented  us  with  a 
respectful  flourish  to  the  obdurate  Winch  pere,  who  looked 
imposing  in  his  blue  coat  with  gilt  buttons,  buff  Marseilles 
vest,  and  high  white  cravat  Mrs.  Winch,  dark,  like  her 
daughter,  but  shrivelled,  which  the  latter  was  not,  stood 
beside  her  lord,  in  black  satin,  evidently  as  happy  as  sh*1 
could  well  be.  The  reconciliation,  in  fact,  was  supposed  to 
be  mainly  her  work. 

We,  as  the  son-in-law's  friends,  received  conspicuous  at- 
tention. Mrs.  Gamble  welcomed  us  like  oM  acquaintance* 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  205 

And  glided  hither  and  thither  with  a  lazy  grace,  ts  she 
strove  to  stir  up  and  blend  us  with  the  other  social  ele- 
ments of  wlu'ch  the  party  was  composed.  This  was  not 
difficult  in  the  case  of  my  companions,  and  I  resolved,  in 
my  ignorance  of  New  York  habits,  to  imitate  them  hi  ev- 
erything. Accordingly,  when  Mrs.  Gamble  asked  me  if  I 
should  not  like  to  be  introduced  to  a  young  lady  "  of  a  lit- 
erary turn,"  in  whom  I  might  discover  "  a  congenial  spirit," 
1  acquiesced  with  enthusiasm,  and  soon  found  myself  seated 
beside  Miss  Levi,  a  remarkable  girl,  with  very  black  hair 
and  eyebrows,  and  a  prominent  nose.  Her  forehead  was 
so  low.  that,  at  a  distance,  it  looked  like  a  white  stripe  over 
her  eyebrows.  She  wore  a  dress  which  not  merely  showed 
her  shoulders,  but  the  upper  undulations  of  her  bosom,  so 
that,  whenever  she  bent  forward,  my  gaze  fell  into  a  won- 
derful twilight  region,  which  caused  me  to  blush  with  the 
sense  of  having  committed  an  impropriety. 

"  Mrs.  Gamble  tells  me  you  are  a  poet,  Mr.  Godfrey," 
she  said.  (How  had  Mrs.  Gamble  learned  that  so  soon  ?  ) 

"  Oh,  I  write  a  little,"  I  modestly  answered. 

'"  How  charming !  I  doat  on  poetry.  Won't  you  repeat 
to  me  some  of  yours  ?  " 

I  was  rather  taken  aback  at  this  proposition,  but,  taking 
it  for  granted  that  Miss  Levi  knew  the  ways  of  society 
better  than  myself,  I  repeated  to  her,  in  a  low  voice,  and 
with  some  confusion,  the  last  song  I  had  written. 

"  It  is  beautiful !  "  she  exclaimed,  fixing  her  large,  jet- 
black  eyes  upon  me  with  a  power  I  could  scarcely  endure 
to  meet.  "  Beautiful !  You  must  have  been  inspired  — • 
does  she  live  in  the  city  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  "  I  asked,  feeling  that  my  face  sufficiently  be- 
trayed me. 

"  How  can  you  ask  '  who  ?  '  Mr.  Godfrey  ?  Ah,  yon 
poets  are  a  sad  class  of  men.  I  "m  afraid  you  are  all  incon 
»tant ;  tell  me,  do  you  think  you  can  be  faithful  to  her  ?  " 

Some  imp  prompted  me  to  reply,  •'  I  never  had  EDJ 
doubt  of  it  before  this  evening." 


806  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Godfrey  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  that  is  too  bad 
Now  I  know  you  are  not  in  earnest"     But  she  looked  at 
me  very  much  as  if  she  would  like  me  to  insist  that  I  was 
I  could  not  carry  the  farce  any  further,  so  endeavored  to 
change  the  subject  by  asking,  "  Do  you  write,  Miss  Levi  ?  " 

"  I  ought  not  to  tell  you,"  she  answered  ;  "  but  I  can 


Our  talk  was  here  interrupted,  probably  on  the  brink  of 
sweet  intellectual  disclosures,  by  the  sound*of  the  piano. 
It  was  Swansford,  whom  Mrs.  Gamble  had  persuaded  to 
favor  the  company  with  one  of  his  compositions.  He  gave, 
to  my  surprise,  the  very  song  I  had  just  repeated  to  Miss 
Levi,  with  a  tender  and  beautiful  melody  of  his  own.  This 
generosity  touched  me,  —  for  generosity  it  really  was,  when 
he  might  have  sung  his  own  words.  He  looked  towards 
me  and  smiled,  at  the  close,  seeing  my  gratitude  in  my 
eyes. 

Shortly  afterwards  I  was  released  from  Miss  Levi,  who 
took  Swansford's  place,  and  sang,  "  You  '11  Remember  Me," 
in  a  piercing  voice.  Various  songs  of  the  same  class  fol- 
lowed, and,  even  with  my  own  uncultured  taste,  I  could 
easily  understand  the  look  of  distress  on  Swansford's  face. 

The  double  parlor  was  crowded,  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore the  songs  gave  way  to  the  music  of  two  violins  and  a 
harp,  stationed  under  Mr.  Winch's  portrait,  between  the 
front  windows.  The  carpets  had  been  taken  up,  so  that 
everybody  expected  dancing.  Having  a  slight  familiarity 
with  quadrilles,  from  the  "  gatherings  "  in  Upper  Samaria, 
I  secured  Miss  Dunlap,  as  the  partner  with  whom  I  should 
be  least  embarrassed,  and,  after  that,  was  kept  well  supplied 
through  the  efforts  of  the  Gambles  and  young  Winch. 
When  the  waltz  came,  I  withdrew  to  a  corner  and  watched 
the  softly  whirling  pairs,  conspicuous  among  whom  were 
the  hero  and  heroine  of  the  evening.  It  was  delightful  to 
see  the  yielding  grace  with  which  she  trusted  herself  to  his 
arm,  drifting  like  a  swan  on  the  eddies  of  a  stream,  while 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  207 

her  hands  lay  clasped  on  his  shoulder,  and  her  large,  dark 
eyes  lifted  themselves  to  his.  Happy  pair  !  If  I  were  he, 
and  she  were  Amanda  !  —  but  I  ground  the  thought  between 
uiy  teeth,  and  stifled  the  impatience  of  my  heart. 

Towards  midnight  we  marched  down  to  a  room  in  the 
basement,  where  a  superb  supper  was  arranged.  Mrs.  Very 
supposed  that  it  must  have  cost  fifty  dollars,  and  she  was 
capable  of  forming  an  opinion.  There  were  oysters,  salads, 
pates,  jellies,  brandy-peaches,  and  bon-bons,  with  tea,  coffee, 
ices,  an  !  champagne.  I  now  discovered  that  I  had  a  natural 
taste  for  these  luxuries,  and  was  glad  to  see  that  Swansford 
partook  of  them  with  a  relish  equal  to  my  own.  The  iced 
champagne,  which  I  had  never  before  tasted,  seemed  to  me 
the  nectar  of  the  gods.  Young  Winch  filled  my  glass  as 
often  as  it  was  emptied,  for  a  few  short,  jolly  speeches  were 
made  and  a  great  many  toasts  drunk.  The  ladies  filtered 
away  before  we  knew  it,  and  we  were  first  aroused  from  oui 
delightful  revelry  by  Mr.  Mortimer,  who  came,  hat  in  hand, 
to  announce  that  the  Misses  Tatting  and  Dunlap  were  wait- 
ing for  us. 

On  the  way  home  I  confided  to  the  latter  my  interview 
with  Miss  Levi,  and  had  it  on  my  tongue's  end  to  tell  bei 
about  Amanda,  I  longed  to  pour  out  my  heart  to  a  sympa- 
thizing ear,  and  would  probably  have  done  it,  had  Hester 
Street  been  a  little  farther  off. 

On  reaching  the  attic  I  went  into  Swansford's  room  for 
a  little  chat,  before  going  to  bed.  He  was  highly  excited. 
He  looked  up  at  the  lithographs  of  Mendelssohn  and  Beet- 
hoven, shook  his  fist,  and  cried,  "  Oh,  you  grand  old  Trojans, 
did  you  ever  have  to  endure  what  I  have  ?  I  don't  believe 
it !  You  had  those  around  who  knew  what  you  were,  and 
what  your  art  is,  but  I,  —  see  here,  Godfrey  !  This  is  the 
insane,  idiotic  stuff  that  people  go  into  ecstasies  about." 

He  sat  down  to  the  piano,  played  a  hideous,  flashy  accom- 
paniment, and  sang,  with  extravagant  voice  and  gesture,  one 
of  the  sentimental  songs  to  which  we  had  beer  treated 


208  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

I  threw  myself  back  on  his  bed,  in  convulsions  of  laiigh 
ter. 

"  My  words  are  poor  enough,''  he  continued,  "  but  what 
do  you  say  to  these  :  — 

" '  When  ho-hollow  hearts  shall  wear  a  mask, 

'T  will  break  your  own  to  see-he-hee, 
In  such  a  mo-homent,  1  but  ask 

That  you  '11  remember  —  that  you  '11  re-MEM-ber 
—  you  '11  re — ME-HE-HEM — be-e-e-r  me ! ' 

—  oh,  and  the  young  ladies  turn  up  their  eyes  like  ducks 
in  a  thunder-storm,  at  that,  and  have  no  ear  for  the  splendid 
passion  of  '  Adela'ida  ' !  It 's  enough  to  make  one  despise 
the  human  race.  I  could  grind  out  such  stuff  by  the  bushel ; 
why  not  take  my  revenge  on  the  fools  in  this  way  ?  Why 
not  give  them  the  absurdest  satire,  which  they  shall  suck 
down  as  pure  sentiment  ?  I  '11  laugh  at  them,  and  they  '11 
pay  me  for  it !  Come,  Godfrey,  give  me  some  nonsense 
which  will  pass  for  a  fashionable  song  ;  I  'm  in  the  humor 
for  a  bit  of  deviltry  to-night" 

"  Agreed !  "  I  cried,  springing  from  the  bed.  I  eagerly 
caught  at  the  idea,  for  it  seemed  like  a  personal  discharge 
of  my  petty  spite  against  Miss  Levi.  I  took  a  pencil  and 
the  back  of  a  music-sheet,  and,  as  sense  was  not  material 
to  the  composition,  in  a  short  time  produced  the  follow* 
tog:  — 

"  Away,  my  soul !     This  withered  hand 

No  more  may  sing  of  joy : 
The  roses  redden  o'er  the  land 

Which  autumn  gales  destroy; 
But  when  my  hopes  shall  shine  as  fair 

As  bowers  beneath  the  hill, 
I  '11  bid  the  tempest  hear  my  prayer, 
And  dream  you  love  me  still ! 

"  The  sky  is  dark :  no  stars  intrude 

To  bind  the  brow  of  day. 
Oh,  why  should  love,  so  wildly  wooed 

Refuse  to  turn  away  V 
The  lark  is  loud,  the  wind  is  high 

And  Fate  must  have  lu-r  will : 
Ah,  nought  is  left  me  but  to  die, 

And  dream  you  love  me  still  1 " 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  209 

u  The  very  thing ! "  exclaimed  Swansford,  wiping  awai 
tears  of  the  laughter  which  had  twice  interrupted  my  reading. 
"  1  've  got  the  melody  ;  give  me  the  candle,  and  we  '11  have 
the  whole  performance." 

He  sang  it  over  and  over  with  the  purest,  most  rollicking 
relish  introducing  each  time  new  and  fantastic  ornaments, 
until  the  force  of  burlesque  could  no  farther  go.  My  in 
tense  enjoyment  of  the  fun  kept  up  his  inspiration,  and  the 
melody,  with  its  preposterous  accompaniment,  was  fairly 
written  before  our  merry  mood  began  to  decline.  The 
piece  was  entitled  "  A  Fashionable  Song,"  and  we  decided 
that  it  should  be  offered  to  a  publisher  the  very  next  day. 

It  was  late  when  I  awoke,  and  in  the  practical  reaction 
from  the  night's  excitement  I  thought  very  little  of  the 
matter  until  the  sound  of  Swansford's  piano  recalled  it. 
He  met  me,  smiling,  as  he  said,  "  Our  song  is  really  not  a 
bad  thing  of  its  kind,  though  the  kind  is  low  enough.  But, 
of  course,  we  need  never  be  known  as  the  authors." 

He  put  on  his  hat,  and  went  out,  with  the  manuscript  in 
his  hand.  I  accompanied  him  as  far  as  the  Park,  in  order 
to  make  a  call,  to  which  I  did  not  attach  any  particular 
hope,  (I  had  been  too  often  disappointed  for  that !)  but  in 
fulfilment  of  a  promise.  Among  the  new  acquaintances  I 
had  made  at  the  Winch  ball,  was  a  Mr.  Lettsom,  who  was 
acting  as  a  law  reporter  for  various  daily  papers.  In  the 
course  of  a  little  conversation  which  I  had  with  him,  I 
mentioned  my  wish  to  obtain  literary  employment  of  some 
kind,  and  asked  whether  he  knew  of  any  vacancy.  He  in- 
formed me  that  reporting  was  the  surest  resource  for  a 
young  man  who  was  obliged  to  earn  his  living  by  his  pen. 
Most  of  the  prominent  editors,  he  said,  had  begun  life  either 
as  reporters  or  printers,  and  there  could  be  no  better  school 
in  which  to  make  one's  talent  ready  and  available. 

Something  in  Mr.  Lettsom's  plainness,  both  of  face  and 
manner,  inspired  me  with  confidence  in  his  judgment,  and 
I  eagerly  accepted  his  invitation  to  call  upon  him  at  tb- 
14 


210  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

office  of  the  Daily  Wonder,  where  I  hoped,  at  least,  to  heal 
something  that  would  put  me  on  the  right  track. 

I  found  him  in  the  fourth  story  of  the  building,  at  a  littlt 
desk  in  the  corner  of  a  room  filled  with  similar  desks,  at 
which  other  gentlemen  were  either  writing  or  inspecting 
enormous  files  of  newspapers.  A  large  table  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  was  covered  with  maps,  dictionaries,  and  books 
of  reference.  There  was  not  much  conversation,  except 
when  a  man  with  smutty  hands,  a  paper  cap  on  his  head, 
and  a  newspaper  tied  around  his  waist,  came  in  and  said, 
u  Hurry  up  with  that  foreign  news  copy  !  It 's  time  the 
Extra  was  out !  "  To  me  the  scene  was  both  strange  and 
imposing.  This  was  the  Delphic  cave  whence  was  uttered 
the  daily  oracular  Voice,  which  guided  so  many  thousands 
of  believing  brains  ;  these  were  the  attendant  priests,  who 
sat  in  the  very  adytum  of  the  temple  and  perhaps  assisted 
in  the  construction  of  the  sentences  of  power. 

There  was  nothing  oracular  about  Mr.  Lettsom.  With 
his  thin  face,  sandy  eyebrows,  and  quiet  voice,  he  was  as 
ordinary  a  man  in  appearance  as  one  will  meet  in  a  day's 
travel.  He  seemed,  and  no  doubt  was,  incapable  of  enthu- 
siasm ;  but  there  was  a  mixture  of  frankness,  kindness,  and 
simple  good-sense  in  him  which  atoned  for  the  absence  of 
any  loftier  faculty.  I  had  no  claim  whatever  upon  his 
good  offices  ;  he  scarcely  knew  more  of  me  than  my  na  m>, 
and  had  only  asked  me  to  step  in  to  him  at  an  hour  when 
he  should  have^  a  little  leisure  for  talk.  I  was,  therefore, 
quite  overcome,  when,  after  the  first  greetings,  he  said,  — 

"  I  have  been  making  inquiries  this  morning,  at  the 
newspaper  offices.  It  is  a  pity  I  did  not  meet  you  sooner, 
as  the  Anniversaries,  when  extra  work  is  always  needed, 
•we  nearly  over ;  but  there  may  be  a  chance  for  you  here. 
It  depends  upon  yourself,  if  Mr.  Clarendon,  the  chief  edi- 
tor of  the  Wonder,  is  satisfied  to  try  you.  An  insignificant 
post,  and  poorly  paid,  at  first,  —  but  so  are  all  beginnings^ 
So  many  young  men  come  to  the  city  with  high  expecta 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  211 

dons,  that  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  getting  any  num- 
ber of  full-grown  editors  and  critics,  while  the  apprenticed 
places  are  rarely  in  demand.  I  tell  you  this  beforehand. 
We  will  now  call  on  Mr.  Clarendon." 

Before  I  could  recover  my  breath,  we  were  in  the  sacred 
presence,  in  a  small  adjoining  room.  Mr.  Clarendon  sat  at 
a  library  table,  which  rested  on  a  countless  array  of  draw- 
ers. He  was  writing  rapidly  on  long,  narrow  slips  of  pa- 
per, which  he  numbered  and  transferred  from  his  right  to 
his  left  hand  as  they  were  finished.  He  must  have  heard 
our  entrance,  but  neither  lifted  his  head  nor  noticed  us  in 
any  way  until  Mr.  Lettsom  announced,  — 

"  This  is  Mr.  Godfrey,  the  young  gentleman  about  whom 
I  spoke  to  you  this  morning." 

"  Very  well,  Lettsom,"  —  and  the  latter  left  the  room. 
Mr.  Clarendon  bowed  in  an  abstracted  way,  pointed  with 
the  top  of  his  quill  to  a  chair  on  the  other  side  of  the  ta 
ble,  and  resumed  his  writing. 

He  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  good  presence,  and  with 
an  expression  of  penetration,  shrewdness,  and  decision  in 
his  distinctly  moulded  features.  His  head  was  massive  and 
finely  formed ;  the  hair,  once  light-brown,  was  now  almost 
wholly  gray,  and  the  eyes  of  that  rich  golden-bronze  tint 
which  is  as  beautiful  as  it  is  rare.  Although  his  frame  was 
large,  I  was  struck  by  the  smallness,  whiteness,  and  sym- 
metry of  his  hand. 

I  took  the  seat  indicated,  and  waited  for  him  to  speak 
He  wrote  half  of  one  of  his  slips,  and  then,  having  appar- 
ently finished  a  paragraph,  said,  without  looking  up,  — 

"  So,  you  want  to  try  your  hand  at  newspaper  work  ?  " 

1  assented,  stating  that  I  was  willing  to  perform  any  kind 
of  literary  labor  of  which  I  might  be  capable. 

"  You  have  never  done  anything  of  the  sort,  I  suppose 
Have  you  ever  written  for  publication  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"What?" 


212  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

The  few  poems  and  the  accepted  story  seemed  very  in- 
significant now,  —  but  they  were  all  I  had.  I  mentioned 
them. 

"  That  is  hardly  a  recommendation,"  he  said,  resuming 
his  writing  ;  "  rather  the  reverse.  We  want  a  plain  style, 
exact  adherence  to  facts,  and  above  all  —  quickness.  You 
may  have  these  qualities,  nevertheless.  Let  us  see." 

He  turned  over  a  pile  of  newspapers  at  his  right  hand, 
selected,  almost  at  random,  the  Baltimore  American,  and 
handed  it  to  me,  saying,  "  You  will  find  the  city-news  oc 
the  third  page.  Look  over  it  and  tell  me  if  you  see  any* 
thing  of  sufficient  importance  to  copy." 

"  Nothing,  unless  it  is  this  — '  Conflagration  at  Fell's 
Point,' "  I  answered,  after  rapidly  running  my  eye  up  and 
down  the  columns. 

"  Now  go  to  yonder  table  —  you  will  find  pen  and  paper 
there  —  and  condense  this  half-column  account  into  fifteen 
lines,  giving  all  the  material  facts." 

How  lucky  it  is,  I  thought,  as  I  prepared  to  obey,  that  I 
went  through  such  a  thorough  course  of  amplification  and 
condensation  at  the  Honeybrook  Academy  !  My  mind  in- 
stantly reverted  to  the  old  drill,  and  resumed  something  of 
its  mechanical  dexterity.  In  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  I 
had  performed  the  work,  Mr.  Clarendon,  in  the  mean  time, 
writing  steadily  and  silently  on  his  narrow  slips. 

"  It  is  done,  sir,"  I  said,  venturing  to  interrupt  him. 

"  Bring  it  here." 

I  handed  him  both  the  original  article  and  my  abbrevi- 
ated statement.  He  compared  them,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
by  a  single  glance  of  the  eye.  Such  rapidity  of  mental  ac 
tion  was  little  short  of  the  miraculous. 

"  Fairly  done,  for  a  beginner,"  he  then  remarked.  k<  I 
will  try  you,  Mr.  Godfrey.  This  will  be  the  kind  of  work 
I  shall  first  give  you.  You  will  make  blunders  and  omis- 
sions, until  you  are  better  broken  to  the  business.  Sir 
dollars  a  week  is  all  you  are  worth  now  ;  will  that  satisfy 
you  ?  " 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  2l£ 

Satisfy  ?  It  was  deliverance  !  It  was  a  branch  of  Pac 
tolus,  bursting  at  my  feet,  to  bear  me  onward  to  all  golder 
possibilities  !  I  blundered  forth  both  my  assent  and  grati- 
tude, which  Mr.  Clarendon,  having  completed  his  article,  cut 
short  by  conducting  me  to  the  larger  room,  where  he  pre- 
sented me  to  one  of  the  gentlemen  whom  he  addressed  as 

O 

Mr.  Severn,  saying,  "  Mr.  Godfrey  is  to  be  set  at  condens- 
ing the  miscellaneous.  He  will  come  here  at  ten  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning.  Have  an  eye  to  him  now  and  then/' 

Mr.  Severn,  who  had  a  worn  and  haggard  look,  was  evi- 
dently glad  to  learn  that  I  was  to  relieve  him  of  some  of 
his  duties.  His  reception  was  mildly  cordial,  and  I  was  a 
little  surprised  that  he  betrayed  no  more  curiosity  to  know 
who  or  what  I  was. 

Overflowing  with  joy  at  my  unexpected  good  fortune,  I 
hastened  back  to  Mrs.  Very's  to  communicate  the  happy 
news  to  Swansford.  But  I  was  obliged  to  control  my  im- 
patience until  late  in  the  afternoon.  When  at  last  I  heard 
his  step  coming  up  the  stairs,  I  threw  open  my  door  and 
beckoned  him  in.  He,  too,  seemed  no  less  excited  than 
myself.  Flinging  his  hat  upon  my  bed,  he  cried  out, 
"  Godfrey ! "  at  the  same  instant  that  I  cried  — 

"  Swansford  !  such  news  !  hurrah  !  " 

"  Hurrah  ! "  he  echoed,  but  his  face  fell.  "  Why,  who 
told  you?" 

"  Who  told  me  ?  "  I  asked,  in  surprise ;  "  why,  it  happened 
to  me  ! " 

"  What  happened  to  you  ?  Good  God !  "  he  exclaimed  in 
sudden  alarm,  "  you  have  not  gone  and  sold  the  song  to 
somebody  else  ?  " 

In  the  tumult  of  my  thoughts,  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
the  song.  With  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  comical  expression 
on  Swansford's  face,  I  pushed  him  into,  a  chair  and  trium- 
phantly told  him  my  story. 

"  I  congratulate  you.  Godfrey,"  he  said,  giving  me  his 
baud.  "  This  is  a  lucky  day  for  both  of  us.  I  thought  J 


214  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

should  astonish  you,  but  there 's  not  much  chance  of  that 
now,  and  I  'm  heartily  glad  of  it" 

M  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"•  Let  me  tell  my  story.  When  1  left  you  at  the  Park 
Gate,  I  started  to  go  down  to  Kettle\v  ell's,  but,  by  the  time 
I  had  reached  the  Astor  House,  it  occurred  to  me.  that,  as 
he  deals  in  just  such  sentimental  songs  as  we  have  bur- 
lesqued, I  should  have  but  a  small  chance  of  doing  any- 
thing with  him.  Besides,  I  dislike  the  man,  although  he 
published  my  compositions  when  no  one  else  would.  So  J 
turned  about  and  went  up  street  to  Mackintosh,  who  's  al 
least  a  gentlemanly  fellow.  I  produced  the  song,  first  told 
him  what  it  was.  saw  that  he  thought  the  idea  a  good  one, 
and  then  sang  it  as  well  as  I  could.  There  was  another 

O 

gentleman  in  the  store,  and  they  both  laughed  like  the 
deuce  when  I  wound  up  with  the  grand  final  cadenza. 
Mackintosh,  I  think,  would  have  taken  the  song,  but  the 
other  gentleman  came  up,  clapped  his  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
and  said,  '  I  must  have  that-  I  '11  buy  it,  out  and  out 
Joe  shall  sing  it  this  very  night ! '  I  did  n't  know  who  he 
was,  but  Mackintosh  then  introduced  him  to  me  as  Bridger, 
of  Bridger's  Minstrels.  '  What 's  your  price,  copyright  and 
all  ? '  he  asked.  Thinking  it  was  a  joke,  I  retorted  with, 
'  A  hundred  dollars.'  '  Fifty,'  said  he.  '  No,  a  hundred,'  I 
answered,  keeping  up  the  fun.  '  Well  —  split  the  differ- 
ence. Say  the  word,  and  here  's  your  money.'  '  Seeing 
it 's  you  '  —  I  began  to  say,  but  before  I  had  finished  there 
were  seventy-five  dollars  in  my  hand,  —  here  they  are  !  — 
—  and  Bridger  was  writing  a  bill  of  sale,  including  the 
copyright  Mackintosh  opened  his  eyes,  but  I  pretended 
to  take  the  matter  coolly,  though  I  hardly  knew  whether  T 
was  standing  on  my  head  or  heels.  But  what  a  shame  and 
humiliation  !  Seventy-five  dollars  for  a  burlesque  to  be 
sung  by  Ethiopian  Minstrels !  " 

"  There  's  neither  shame  nor  humiliation  about  it ! "  I 
protested.  "  It 's  grand  and  glorious !  Only  think,  Swans- 
ford, —  ten  weeks'  board  each  for  an  hour's  work!" 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  216 

u  I  think  of  years  of  work,  and  not  an  hour  of  apprecia- 
tive recognition,"  said  he,  relapsing  into  sudden  gloom. 

But  my  sunshine  was  too  powerful  for  his  shadow.  I 
insisted  on  crowning  this  dies  miraUlis  with  an  Olympian 
banquet  in  the  best  oyster-cellar  of  the  Bowery,  and  car- 
ried my  point.  We  had  broiled  oysters,  a  little  out  of  sea- 
son, and  a  bottle  of  champagne,  though  Swansford  would 
have  preferred  ale,  as  being  so  much  cheaper.  I  was  in  a 
splendid  mood,  and  again  carried  my  point. 

This  ravishing  dawn  of  prosperity  melted  my  soul,  and 
there,  in  the  little  stall,  scarcely  separated  from  roystering 
and  swearing  bullies  on  either  side,  I  whispered  to  Swans- 
ford  my  love  for  Amanda  and  my  dreams  of  the  future 
which  we  should  share. 

He  bent  down  his  head  and  said  nothing,  but  I  saw  a 
tear  drop  into  his  wine. 

We  rose  and  walked  silently  homewards,  arm  in  aim 


216  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  XVTL 
MTHICH  "CONDENSES  THE  MISCELLANEOUS"  OF  A  TEAR. 

THE  next  day  commenced  for  me  a  new  life  —  a  life  of 
responsible,  regulated  labor,  and  certain,  if  moderate  re- 
ward. It  was  not  difficult  to  resume  the  harness,  for  my 
temporary  freedom  had  not  been  sufficiently  enjoyed  to 
tempt  me  to  prolong  it.  My  life  already  possessed  a  seri- 
ous direction,  leading,  I  fondly  believed,  to  that  home  of 
my  own  creation  which  my  poor  mother  had  foreseen  upon 
her  death-bed.  This  hope  was  stronger  at  that  time  than 
any  literary  aspirations.  Indeed,  I  would  have  sacrificed 
the  latter  without  much  regret,  provided  another  and  more 
speedy  path  to  wealth  and  distinction  had  presented  itself. 
But  my  mind  had  received  its  bent  from  my  cheaply  won 
triumphs  at  the  Honeybrook  Academy,  and  I  had  too  little 
expenence  of  life  to  know  how  easily  a  young  and  plastic 
nature  accommodates  itself  to  different  forms  of  training. 

I  took  my  appointed  desk  in  the  editorial  room  of  the 
Daily  Wonder,  and  commenced  my  allotted  labor  of  "  con- 
densing the  miscellaneous."  I  was  so  anxious  to  give  satis- 
fit  ction  that  no  paper  —  even  the  most  insignificant  country 
sheet  —  passed  through  my  hands  without  being  carefully 
inspected.  I  sat  at  my  desk  from  ten  to  twelve  hours  a 
day,  selecting,  condensing,  and  polishing  my  items,  until 
Smeaton,  the  foreman  of  the  composing-room,  —  the  man 
with  smutty  hands  and  paper  cap,  —  informed  me,  as  he 
took  my  slips,  "  You  do  pile  up  the  Miscellaneous  in  an 
awful  way ;  half  of  that  will  be  crowded  out  of  to-nighf  a 
make-up." 


JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  217 

Not  a  fire,  murder,  railroad  disaster,  daring  burglary, 
shocking  accident,  tragic  occurrence,  curious  phenomenon 
or  singular  freak  of  nature,  escaped  my  eyes ;  and  I  was 
beginning  to  congratulate  myself  on  my  expertness,  when, 
on  the  third  day,  I  received  a  most  unexpected  humiliation. 
I  had  overlooked  the  result  of  an  election  to  fill  a  vacancy 
in  the  Fourth  Congressional  District  of  Tennessee,  —  a 
circumstance  which  my  colleagues  who  "  condensed  the 
miscellaneous  "  for  the  Marvel,  the  Monitor,  and  the  Avenger, 
had  all  duly  commemorated,  thus  distancing  the  Wonder 
for  that  day.  Mr.  Clarendon's  wrath  was  both  strong  and 
freely  expressed.  It  would  have  been  still  more  severe, 
Mr.  Severn  informed  me,  but  for  the  lucky  chance  that  the 
"  city  editor,"  in  reporting  a  fire  in  Broome  Street,  had  ob- 
tained both  the  amount  of  insurance  and  the  names  of  the 
companies,  which  were  not  mentioned  in  the  rival  dailies, 
and  thereby  partly  compensated  my  oversight.  I  found 
that  the  rivalry  extended  to  the  smallest  details  in  the  com- 
position of  a  paper,  and  was  felt  as  keenly  by  the  subordi- 
nates of  the  establishment  as  by  the  principals.  There  was 
an  eager  comparison  of  the  various  journals  every  morning, 
and  while  the  least  advantage  of  the  Wonder  in  point  of 
news  was  the  subject  of  general  rejoicing,  so  the  most  in- 
significant shortcoming  seemed  to  be  felt  by  each  as  a  per- 
sonal grievance.  .1  very  soon  caught  the  infection,  and 
became  as  sensitive  a  partisan  as  the  rest. 

There  was  a  marked  change  in  Mr.  Jenks's  manner 
towards  me  when  he  discovered  my  new  position.  My 
short  story  with  the  unmistakable  moral  was  accepted  with 
some  flattering  remarks,  to  the  effect  that  I  was  already 
improving  in  style,  and  he  thought  he  could  afford  to  pay 
me  ten  dollars  instead  of  five.  He  called  me  back  when  I 
was  leaving  his  office,  adding  in  a  careless  way,  "  Of  course 
you  know  Mr.  Withering,  the  literary  critic  of  the  Wonder 
I  wish  you  would  just  call  his  attention  to  the  June  n  umbel 
of  '  The  Hesperian.'  Here  is  an  extra  copy  for  him." 


218  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

On  Saturday* afternoon  I  received  the  stipulated  six  dol- 
lars, which  I  felt  had  been  well  earned.  This  sum  was 
sufficient  to  pay  my  board  and  all  other  necessary  expenses, 
thus  making  me  independent  of  literature  and  its  scanty, 
uncertain  returns.  I  was  already  so  fortunate  as  to  possess 
a  a  occupation  and  a  taste  ;  the  narrow  bounds  of  my  life 
were  satisfactorily  filled.  I  not  only  felt  but  saw  that 
others  recognized  in  me  a  new  importance.  Even  Mr. 
Mortimer,  identifying  me  with  the  Wonder,  seemed  to  take 
it  for  granted  that  I  was  the  depository  of  much  secret 
intelligence,  in  matters  of  current  gossip,  politics,  or  finance. 
The  demand  for  my  opinion  on  these  matters  created  the 
supply,  and  it  was  astonishing  how  soon  my  words,  until 
now  shy,  hesitating,  and  painfully  self-distrustful,  became 
assured  and  oracular.  Rand's  opinion,  as  to  the  necessity 
of  certain  metals,  either  in  face  or  pocket,  seemed  about  to 
be  justified. 

When  I  returned  home  that  evening,  a  new  delight 
awaited  me.  Mrs.  Very  handed  me  a  letter,  addressed  to 
"Mr.  John  Godfrey,"  in  a  coarse,  awkward  hand,  which 
puzzled  me  a  little  until  I  noticed  the  post-mark,  "  Cardiff," 
in  one  corner.  Then  I  rushed  up  to  my  room,  locked  the 
door,  and  tore  open  the  envelope  with  trembling  haste.  A 
delicate  enclosure,  of  silky  pink  paper,  and  redolent  of 
patchouly,  dropped  out ;  but  I  resolutely  inspected  the 
rough  husk  before  feasting  my  heart  on  the  honeyed  kernel. 
Phis  was  Dan's  letter  :  — 

"  SUNDAY,  May  the  23d. 

"  Respected  Friend,  I  reed,  your  favor  in  which  you  in 
formed  me  that  you  was  getting  on  so  well  and  gave  the 
other  as  you  directed.  Thought  it  best  to  wait  for  the 
other's  answer,  though  there  is  no  particular  news.  Sep 
Bratton  goes  to  The  Buck  every  day,  and  there  's  high 
goings  on  between  him  and  the  squire.  Your  friend  Mr. 
Rand  was  there  again.  People  say  the  squire  is  speculating 
about  Pottsville,  and  will  cut  up  pretty  fat  some  day,  which 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  219 

is  no  business  of  mine,  but  thought  you  might  like  to  hear 
We  are  all  well,  and  mother  and  Sue  says  remember  me  te 
him.  I  guess  Ben  and  her  is  satisfied  with  one  another, 
but  you  need  not  say  I  told  you.  There  is  a  mistress  at 
the  school  this  summer,  a  right  smart  young  woman,  her 
Dame  is  Lavina  Wilkins.  And  hoping  these  few  lines  will 
find  you  enjoying  good  health,  I  remain, 

"  Yours,  respectfully, 

"  DANIEL  YULE." 

This  letter  was  almost  like  the  touch  of  Dan's  broad, 
honest  hand  ;  it  brought  a  breeze  from  the  valley  with  it 
and  a  burst  of  sunshine,  in  which  I  beheld  the  pond,  the 
shaded  foot-path,  and  the  lonely  bank  beside  the  old  hem- 
lock-tree. With  a  sigh  of  yearning  tenderness  I  stretched 
forth  my  empty  arms  and  murmured,  "  Dear  Amanda ! " 
Then  I  kissed  the  fragrant  pink  of  the  little  note,  and 
gloated  over  my  own  uame,  traced  in  fine  Italian  hand. 
The  words  looked  so  smooth,  so  demure,  so  gently  calm  — 
in  short,  so  like  herself!  My  heart  thrilled  with  joy  as  I 
deciphered,  on  the  fairy  seal  of  sky-blue  wax,  scarcely 
larger  than  a  three-cent  piece,  the  words  " toujours  jidele" 
After  this,  I  had  no  more  power  of  abstinence.  The  com- 
ing joy  must  be  tasted. 

Her  letter  was  very  short  in  comparison  with  mine,  —  so 
short,  indeed,  that  after  three  readings  I  knew  it  by  heart, 
and  could  repeat  it  to  myself  as  I  walked  down  Chatham 
Street.  I  can  still  recall  it,  word  by  word. 

"  Dear  John,"  (there  were  volumes  of  withheld  confession 
for  me  in  that  one  adjective)  :  — 

"  How  pleased  I  was  to  get  your  beautiful  letter !  Ma 
was  not  at  home,  so  I  was  alone  and  could  read  it  undis- 
turbed, fancying  you  were  near  me.  Do  you  really  think 
of  me  so  much  ?  Do  I  always  seem  present  to  you  ?  I 
can  scarcely  believe  it  yet,  although  you  say  it.  and  I  feel 
iu  my  heart  that  you  are  true.  I  am  not  afraid  that  when 


220  JOHN    GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

you  get  to  be  a  great  writer,  yo  i  will  forget  me  or  any  of  us, 
Oh,  it  is  a  bliss  to  find  one  npon  whom  we  can  rely  !  You 
may  imagine  how  much  I  have  thought  about  you  since 
you  left.  It  was  so  sudden,  and  I  was  so  bewildered  by  what 
you  said,  and  I  cannot  remember  what  /  said  or  did.  But 
I  do  not  forget  any  of  your  words.  They  cannot  be  unsaid, 
can  they  ?  Tell  me  truly,  now,  do  you  wish  it  could  be  so  ? 
--  but  no,  I  will  not  ask  the  question.  We  were  at  Carters- 
town  last  Sunday,  and  Mr.  Perego  preached  from  the  text 
—  Love  is  strong  as  death,  Jealousy  cruel  as  the  grave.  I 
wished  you  could  only  have  heard  it !  How  some  people 
can  be  so  jealous  is  past  my  comprehension :  they  can't 
have  much  faith,  it  seems  to  me. 

"  Oh,  your  letter  was  so  beautiful !  so  poetic !  I  am  quite 
ashamed  to  send  you  my  prose  in  return.  I  have  not  your 
gift  of  expressing  myself,  and  you  must  imagine  all  that  I 
am  not  able  to  say.  Do  not  ask  too  much  of  me.  I  am 
afraid  you  do  not  know  all  my  deficiencies,  and  perhaps  I 
had  better  stop  now,  lest  I  might  disclose  them  to  your 
gaze.  Don't  you  think,  with  me,  that  speech  is  not  neces- 
sary, where  people  understand  each  other's  feelings'?  I 
could  be  silent  for  years,  if  fate  required  it,  not  but  what 
there  is  a  great  consolation  in  the  interchange  of  thoughts. 
Your  description  of  your  life  in  New  York  was  i-ery  inter- 
esting, and  I  want  to  hear  more  of  it ;  but  now  I  must  say 
good-bye,  for  fear  of  interruption.  I  cannot  repeat,  even 
with  the  pen,  your  words  at  the  close  of  your  letter,  but  you 
won't  care  about  it  now,  will  you  ?  A.  B. 

"  P.  S.  —  Oh,  do  not  write  very  often  —  not  more  than 
once  in  two  or  three  months.  It  would  be  dreadful  if  Pa 
or  Ma  or  Sep  should  find  it  out  They  all  think  I  am  a 
child  with  no  mind  of  my  own.  And  I  cannot  look  Dan 
Yule  in  the  face:  he  must  suspect  something,  and  what  if 
he  should  get  drunk  and  tell !  Not  that  he  drinks,  but  we 
can't  tell  what  may  happen,  and  I  am  so  frightened  for  fear 
our  vooi .  harmless  letters  should  fall  into  son.. 'body's  handa 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  221 

M  N.  B.  —  I  have  received  the  Hesperian  through  the 
Post-office.  Sep  brought  it,  but  he  did  not  know  youi 
hand.  How  lucky !  Leonora's  Dream  is  lovely  .'  " 

How  easily  I  read,  in  those  artless,  timid  sentences,  hei 
shy,  pure,  yet  steadfastly  faithful  maiden  heart !  Even  mj 
own  tumultuous  utterances  of  passion  lost  their  eloquence, 
beside  the  soft  serenity  of  her  voice.  The  tender  playful- 
ness with  which  she  avoided  repeating  the  fond  epithets  I 
had  used,  quite  charmed  me.  Love  had  donned  a  witch- 
ing, coquettish  mask,  well  knowing  that  his  own  immortal 
eyes  shone  through  it.  I  was  completely  happy,  but  an 
instinct  told  me  not  to  intrude  my  joy  on  Swansford's  mys- 
terious sorrow :  so,  that  night,  I  kept  my  room  and  wrote 
another  poem. 

My  life  now  assumed  a  somewhat  monotonous  sameness. 
For  months  I  strictly  performed  my  appointed  duties,  in- 
creasing my  circle  of  acquaintances  but  slightly,  and  acquir- 
ing no  experiences  which  seem  worthy  of  being  recorded. 
My  nature,  apparently,  was  resting  from  the  excitements  of 
the  previous  year,  and  its  rapid,  partly  enforced  develop- 
ment was  followed  by  a  long  period  of  repose.  Little  by 
little,  however,  I  was  gaining  in  knowledge  of  life,  in  self- 
reliance,  and  in  power  of  discriminating  between  the  true 
and  the  false,  in  men  and  things ;  but  in  all  these  particu- 
lars I  suspect  I  was  still  behind  most  young  men  of  my 
own  age.  Certainly  I  saw  not  yet  the  out-cropping  of  the 
grosser  elements  of  human  nature  which  a  great  city  brings 
to  light,  yet  I  began  to  feel  a  dim  conviction  that  there  wn» 
something,  that  my  own  innocence  and  ignorance  weie 
exceptional,  and  that,  whether  in  the  way  of  observation 
or  experience,  I  had  much  to  learn. 

About  the  beginning  of  winter,  Mr.  Clarendon,  after 
informing  me  that  he  considered  me  tolerably  well  broken 
to  the  harness,  and  expressing  his  satisfaction  with  my 
punctual,  steady  habits  of  work,  raised  my  salary  to  ten 


222  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

dollars  a  week.  I  was  by  this  time  able  to  do  "  the  Miscel 
laneous"  much  more  rapidly,  and  was  frequently  called 
upon,  in  addition,  to  write  short  items  about  the  weather, 
the  appearance  of  the  city  on  particular  occasions,  or  such 
other  indefinite  subjects  as  might  be  safely  intrusted  to  a 
new  hand.  Thus  I  became  more  and  more,  in  my  own 
estimation,  an  integral  part  of  the  Daily  Wonder,  but  for- 
tunately did  not  feel  the  loss  of  the  individuality  which  it 
absorbed. 

The  increase  of  my  salary,  added  to  an  occasional  windfall 
from  "  The  Hesperian,"  enabled  me  now  to  set  about  grat- 
ifying a  secret  desire  which  I  had  long  cherished.  This 
was  nothing  less  than  to  publish  a  volume.  Swansford,  who 
had  great  faith  in  my  abilities,  advised  me  to  this  step ;  but 
no  persuasion  was  necessary  to  convince  me  of  its  expedi- 
ency. As  the  author  of  a  popular  book,  I  believed  that 
Squire  Bratton  would  bow  his  haughty  crest  before  me, 
and  Uncle  Amos  approach  me  with  a  penitent  confession 
of  misdemeanor.  Instead  of  running  at  the  stirrup,  as  I 
had  been  doing,  it  was  a  bold  leap  into  the  saddle.  Raised 
thus,  a  head  and  shoulders  above  the  "  heartless,  unheeding 
crowd,"  I  should  spatter  instead  of  being  spattered.  It  was 
an  enticing  idea,  and  I  had  scarcely  patience  to  wait  for  its 
fulfilment. 

In  another  respect,  however,  Swansford  was  perverse, 
and  his  perverseness  greatly  annoyed  me.  Our  "  Fashion- 
able Song  "  proved  to  be  very  popular.  It  was  published 
as  the  composition  of  Bridger  (of  Bridger's  Minstrels),  and 
he,  of  course,  received  all  the  fame.  It  was  even  reported 
in  the  papers  that  his  commission  on  the  sale,  he  being 
owner  of  the  copyright,  amounted  to  more  than  a  thousand 
dollars.  I  was  furious  when  I  read  this  to  Swansford,  but 
he  only  smiled,  in  his  melancholy  way,  as  he  remarked,  — 

"  He  is  welcome  to  the  money,  and  his  success  with  that 
stuff  reconciles  me  to  my  share  of  the  pay.  He  would 
give  a  hundred  dollars  for  another,  Mackintosh  tells  me." 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  222 

"  Don't  do  it ! "  I  cried,  eagerly.  "A  hundred  dollars 
and  half  the  gains  of  the  copyright  will  be  little  enough 
Think  what  we  have  lost  on  the  first  one  ! " 

"  You  forget,  Godfrey,  how  glad  we  were  to  get  it.  Why 
we  should  have  been  satisfied  with  one  tenth  of  the  sum 
But  I  wrote  the  thing  in  a  freak  of  disgust,  which  I  have 
outlived,  thank  God  !  Why  should  I  allow  such  themes  to 
enter  my  brain  at  all  ?  The  time  is  too  short,  the  mission 
too  solemn,  for  this  profane  trifling." 

"  But,  Swansford,"  I  cried,  "  you  surely  don't  mean  tha' 
you  will  not  write  another,  if  I  furnish  the  words  ?  " 

••  Yes."  said  he,  gravely,  and  lowering  his  voice  almost  to 
a  whisper  ;  "  I  am  writing  a  symphony.  It  will  be  my  first 
effort  at  a  work  which  might  be  worthy  to  offer  to  those 
two  Masters  yonder,  if  they  were  alive.  The  first  move- 
ment is  finished  —  wait  —  sit  down  —  don't  interrupt  me  !  " 

He  took  his  seat  at  the  piano,  drew  up  his  coat-sleeves, 
turned  back  his  wristbands,  and  commenced  playing.  It 
was  a  sad,  monotonous  theme,  based,  for  the  most  part,  on 
low,  rumbling  chords,  which  reminded  me,  more  than  any- 
thing else,  of  distant  thunder  on  the  horizon  of  a  summer 
night.  A  certain  phrase,  running  into  the  higher  notes, 
and  thence  descending  by  broad,  lingering  intervals,  was 
several  times  repeated.  The  general  effect  of  the  compo- 
sition was  weird  and  mystic ;  I  felt  that  I  did  not  fully  com- 
prehend its  meaning. 

Swansford  at  last  ceased  and  turned  towards  me  with 
excited  eyes.  "  There  ! "  he  cried ;  "  I  have  carried  it  so 
far,  but  beyond  that  there  is  a  confusion  which  I  cannot  yet 
unravel.  This  is  only  the  presentiment  of  the  struggle 
its  reality  is  to  come.  I  feel  what  it  should  be,  but  when 
my  mind  tries  to  grasp  it,  I  encounter  cloud  instead  of  form. 
Oh,  if  I  were  sure  of  reaching  it  at  last,  I  would  gladly 
i^ive  sweat,  blood,  and  agony !  " 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  bent  forward 
over  the  piano.  I  recognized  and  envied  in  him  the  pres 
ence  of  a  consuming  artistic  passion.  Involuntarily,  I  asked 


224  JOHN    GODFREY'S     FORTUNES. 

myself  whether  my  love  of  literature  possessed  me  with  th« 
same  intensity,  and  was  obliged  to  confess  that  it  did  not 
I  was  a  lover,  not  a  worshipper.  I  was  not  strong  enough 
to  spurn  an  avenue  of  success,  though  it  did  not  point  to 
the  highest  goal.  But  I  was  at  least  capable  of  fitting  rev 
erence  for  Swansford's  loftier  and  more  delicately  consti- 
tuted nature,  and  made  no  further  reference,  then,  to  the 
offer  he  had  received. 

When  I  returned  to  the  subject,  a  few  days  afterwards,  I 
found  huii  as  stubborn  as  ever.  My  share  of  the  money 
which  we  might  earn  so  easily  would  have  enabled  me  at 
once  to  publish  my  volume  ;  and  as  I  was  conscious  of  no 
special  degradation  in  the  first  instance,  so  I  could  not  for 
the  life  of  me  feel  that  a  repetition  of  the  joke  would  be  a 
flagrant  offence  against  either  his  art  or  mine.  My  repre- 
sentations to  this  effect  were  useless.  He  was  completely 
absorbed  in  his  symphony,  and  filled  with  a  rapt,  devotional 
spirit,  which,  by  contrast  with-  my.position,  made  me  seem 
a  tempter,  assailing  him  with  evil  suggestions.  I  was  silent, 
and  Bridger  did  not  get  his  second  song. 

During  the  winter  my  circle  of  experience  was  consider- 
ably enlarged.  A  small  portion  of  the  "  complimentary  " 
privileges  of  the  Wonder  fell  to  my  share,  and  I  made  ac- 
quaintance with  lectures,  concerts,  the  drama,  and  the  oj> 
era.  Swansford  sometimes  accompanied  me  to  the  latter, 
and  from  him  I  learned  the  character  and  significance  of 
works  which  had  else  impressed  me  with  a  vague,  voluptu- 
ous, unintelligent  delight  In  my  leisure  hours  I  undertook 
the  task  of  preparing  my  poems  for  publication.  I  had  too 
great  a  liking  for  my  own  progeny  to  reject  any  of  them, 
but,  even  then,  there  were  not  more  than  enough  to  form  a 
thin  volume  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  pages.  The  choice 
of  a  title  puzzled  me  exceedingly.  I  hesitated  for  a  long 
time  between  "  The  Wind-Harp "  and  "TEolian  Harmo- 
nies." until  Swansford  informed  me  that  both  were  equally 
suggestive  of  monotonous  effect.  Then  I  went  to  the  op- 
posite extreme  of  simplicity,  and  adopted  ••  First  Poems,  bj 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  225 

John  Godfrey,"  —  which  the  publisher,  who  was  to  lend  mt 
his  imprint  (I  paying  all  the  expenses  of  printing  and  bind- 
ing and  receiving  half  the  proceeds  of  the  sales),  rejected 
as  fatal  to  success.  It  would  never  do,  he  said,  to  announce 
'First  Poems  " ;  nobody  would  buy  them  ;  I  must  presup- 
pose that  the  public  was  familiar  with  my  productions  ; 
many  persons  bought,  simply  to  show  that  they  kept  up 
with  the  current  literature,  and  the  word  "  First "  would 
tell  them  the  whole  story.  Why  not  say  "  Leonora's 
Dream,"  (he  saw  that  was  the  name  of  the  leading  poem,) 
"  and  Other  Poems  "  ?  And  so  it  was  settled. 

During  all  this  time  I  had  tried  to  gratify  Amanda's  wish 
with  regard  to  the  correspondence.  It  was  hard,  very  hard, 
to  endure  three  months'  silence,  but  as  she  begged  it  for 
her  sake,  I  tried  to  quiet  my  impatient  heart  and  console 
myself  with  tne  knowledge  of  our  mutual  constancy.  Her 
letters  were  short,  but  precious  beyond  computation.  Her 
expressions  were  none  the  less  sweet  that  they  were  con- 
stantly repeated  ;  did  not  I,  also,  repeat  over  and  over, 
without  the  possibility  of  exhausting  their  emphasis,  my 
own  protestations  of  unalterable  love  ?  I  communicated 
my  good  fortune,  with  sure  predictions  of  the  bright  future 
it  heralded,  but  kept  back,  as  a  delicious  surprise,  the  se- 
cret of  my  intended  publication,  and  another  plan  which 
was  to  follow  it.  As  it  was  now  evident  that  the  book 
could  not  be  given  to  the  world  before  May.  and  my 
twenty-first  birthday  occurred  in  June,  I  determined  to 
steal  a  few  days  for  a  visit  and  present  myself  and  my  fame 
at  the  same  time.  I  should  come  into  possession  of  my 
legacy,  and  it  would  therefore  be  necessary  to  make  a  jour- 
ney to  Reading. 

How  my  dreams  expanded  and  blossomed  in  the  breath 
of  the  opening  spring  !  Love,  Manhood,  and  Money,  — 
though  the  last  was  less  than  it  had  once  seemed  to  me,  — 
how  boundless  was  the  first  and  how  joyous  the  second  I 

15 


226  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  XVm. 

IN    WHICH    I    AGAIN    BEHOLD    AMANDA. 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  May  the  important  book  appeared 
I  am  sure  that  no  immortal  work  was  ever  watched,  through 
its  different  processes  of  incarnation,  with  such  tender 
solicitude.  I  lingered  over  the  first  proofs,  the  revised 
proofs,  and  the  printed  and  folded  sheets,  with  a  proud, 
luxurious  interest,  and  the  final  consummation  —  the  little 
volume,  bound  and  lettered  —  was  so  precious  that  I  could 
have  kissed  the  leaves  one  by  one.  It  seemed  incredible 
that  the  "  John  Godfrey  "  on  the  title-page  really  meant 
myself!  A  book  for  me  had  hitherto  possessed  a  sublime, 
mystical  individuality  of  its  own,  and  this,  which  had  grown 
beneath  my  hand,  by  stages  of  manufacture  as  distinctly 
material  as  those  which  go  to  the  formation  of  a  shoe  or  a 
stove,  was  now  to  be  classed  among  those  silent,  eloquent 
personalities !  It  might  be  placed  side  by  side  with  "  Para- 
dise Lost "  or  "  Childe  Harold,"  on  book-shelves  ;  who  could 
tell  whither  chance  or  fortune  might  not  carry  it,  or  what 
young  and  burning  lips  it  might  not  help  unseal  ? 

A  year  previous,  I  should  have  been  ready  to  expect  the 
event  announced  by  portents,  such  as  precede  the  incarna- 
tion of  a  prophet,  —  murmurs  in  the  air,  —  restless  move- 
ments of  the  sea,  —  strange  moods  of  expectancy  in  men. 
But  all  my  boyish  pyrotechnics  of  fancy  had  already  dwin- 
dled down  to  a  modest  tallow-candle,  and  I  had,  now  and 
then,  my  moments  of  severe  doubt  My  book,  I  now  knew, 
was  a  venture,  but  whether  strikingly  and  immediately  suc- 
cessful; or  the  reverse,  it  would  at  least  serve  a  purpose  bj 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  227 

bringing  my  name  before  the  reading  public,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  dearer  service  which  I  confidently  awaited  from  its 
publication. 

Copies  were  sent  to  all  the  principal  newspapers  and 
periodicals  of  Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia,  and  to 
all  prominent  authors,  inscribed  on  the  fly-leaf:  '•  With  the 
respects  of  John  Godfrey."  My  position  in  the  Wonder 
office  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  seeing  whatever  criticisms 
it  might  call  forth,  and  from  the  day  of  publication  I  looked 
at  the  column  of  "  Book  Notices,"  before  searching  among 
the  local  news  for  condensable  items.  For  nearly  a  week 
1  saw  nothing,  and  was  nigh  unto  despair ;  then  came  a 
few  scattering  notices,  then  dozens  of  them  all  together. 
They  were  mostly  brief,  but  very  pleasant  I  was  accredited 
with  "  tender  sentiment,"  "  sweetness  of  versification,"  and 
"  much  promise."  The  result  of  these  judgments  not  only 
satisfied,  but  elated  me.  A  little  poem,  entitled  "  The  Win- 
ter Wind,"  which  I  esteemed  much  less  than  the  longer  and 
more  ambitious  productions,  was  extensively  copied.  In  the 
words  of  a  western  editor,  it  was  "  worthy  of  the  pen  of 
Amelia  B.  Welby."  The  faults  of  the  volume  were  indi- 
cated in  the  same  indefinite  way  as  its  merits  ;  —  they  were 
"  want  of  maturity,"  "  occasional  violation  of  metre,"  or  "  re- 
dundancy of  images,  attributable  to  youth."  Thus,  although 
very  few  copies  of  the  book  were  demanded  of  the  pub- 
lisher, I  considered  it  a  flattering  success. 

All  these  notices  I  cut  out  and  carefully  preserved  in  a 
separate  pocket  of  my  portfolio.  I  have  them  still.  The 
other  day,  as  I  took  them  out  and  read  them  over  with  an 
objective  scrutiny  in  which  no  shadow  of  my  former  interest 
remained,  I  was  struck  with  the  vague,  mechanical  stamp 
by  which  they  are  all  characterized.  I  sought  in  vain 
for  a  single  line  which  showed  the  discrimination  of  an  en- 
lightened critic.  The  fact  is,  we  had  no  criticism,  worthy 
of  the  name,  at  that  time.  Our  literature  was  tenderly 
petted,  and  its  diffuse,  superficial  sentiment  was  perhaps 


228  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

even  more  admired  than  its  first  attempts  at  a  profoundei 
study  of  its  own  appropriate  themes  and  a  noble  assertion 
of  its  autonomy.  That  brief  interregnum  in  England,  during 
which  such  writers  as  Moir,  B.  Simmons,  T.  K.  Hervey,  and 
Alaric  A.  Watts  enjoyed  a  delusive  popularity,  had  its 
counterpart  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic.  All  our  gentle, 
languishing  echoes  found  spell-bound  listeners,  whom  no 
one  —  with,  perhaps,  the  single  exception  of  Poe  —  had 
the  will  to  disenchant  Hillhouse  and  Dawes,  Grenville 
Mellen  and  Brainard  still  sat  high  on  Parnassus,  and 
Griswold  astonished  us  by  disinterring  a  whole  Pantheon 
of  forgotten  worthies. 

For  my  own  part,  I  am  grateful  that  it  was  so.  I  was 
wanned  and  cheered  by  generous  words  of  welcome,  of 
which  I  only  felt  the  sincerity,  not  the  critical  nullity.  My 
life  was  brightened  and  made  hopeful  at  a  time  when  — 
but  I  will  not  anticipate  my  story.  The  reader  will  learn, 
before  I  close,  how  far  my  maturer  powers  justified  my 
early  ambition,  and  he  will  acquit  me  of  selfishness  when 
I  express  the  hope  that  all  brambles  may  be  put  away  from 
before  the  feet  of  others,  as  they  were  put  away  from  mine. 
Whether  or  not  I  deserve  the  fame  I  then  coveted,  I  am 
still  grateful  for  the  considerate  kindness  which  did  not 
venture  to  disturb  a  single  illusion.  What  if  those  poems 
were  but  bubbles  thrown  up  by  the  first  warm  fermentation 
of  youth  ?  For  me  they  displayed,  none  the  less,  theii 
fragments  of  rainbow  color,  and  I  do  not  see  why  I  should 
not  rejoice  in  them  while  they  lasted.  Why,  also,  should 
any  one  say  to  me,  "  These  are  air  and  froth,  not  the  im- 
perishable opals  you  imagine  ?  "  No  ;  let  rather  me,  and 
all  such  as  brighten  their  lives  with  similar  dreams,  be 
deceived ! 

I  had  worked  steadily  and  faithfully  for  a  year,  at  my  desk 
in  the  Wonder  office,  and  Mr.  Clarendon  did  not  refuse  my 
petition  for  a  week's  holiday.  Severn  agreed  to  perform  my 
duties,  in  addition  to  his  own,  during  my  absence,  with  the 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  229 

understanding  that  I  should  return  the  service,  later  in  the 
summer.  To  Swansfbrd  I  confided  so  much  of  my  intention 
as  regarded  the  business  with  my  uncle,  reserving  the  rest 
until  my  return,  for  I  was  still  uncertain  how  Squire  Bratton 
would  receive  the  knowledge  of  my  attachment  to  Amanda. 
The  dear  fellow  sympathized  heartily  with  my  improving 
prospects.  He  believed  in  the  promise  of  my  volume,  be- 
cause it  was  better  than  he  could  have  done,  and  his  pre- 
dictions of  my  success  in  literature  were  even  more  enthu- 
siastic than  my  own  secret  hopes.  He  was  a  faithful  friend ; 
would  that  my  conscience  allowed  me  to  say  the  same  of 
myself! 

My  last  letter  from  Amanda  had  been  received  in  March. 
It  was  brief  and  hurried,  and  at  any  other  time  would  have 
failed  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  my  heart.  But  I  was  al- 
ready deep  in  the  ecstasy  of  my  "  first  proofs,"  and  looking 
forward  to  the  double  surprise  I  was  hoarding  up  for  her. 
"  John,"  she  wrote,  "  do  not  be  angry  at  my  short  letter,  to- 
day, for  indeed  I  am  dreadfully  afraid  Sep,  or  Dan,  or  some- 
body suspects  something.  Sep  asked  me  the  other  day 
whether  I  had  heard  from  you.  I  thought  I  should  sink 
into  the  ground,  but  I  had  to  look  him  in  the  face  and  tell 
a  jib.  I  know  it  was  n't  right,  and  you  would  not  like  me 
to  do  it,  but  there  were  Pa  and  Ma  in  the  room.  I  am  well, 
only  so  nervous,  you  cannot  think.  Dan  looks  at  me  so  queer, 
every  time  we  meet  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  right  for  us 
to  correspond  in  this  underhanded  way,  but  you  know  it  was 
your  proposition.  I  hope  you  won't  take  it  hard  that  T 
should  say  so,  but  indeed  I  wish  there  was  some  other  way 
in  which  we  could  exchange  our  thoughts.  Mr.  Perego  and 
his  wife  are  here  to  tea,  and  I  have  only  five  minutes  to 
myself.  We  see  a  good  deal  of  company  now,  and  it  takes 
up  all  my  time,  nearly.  I  sometimes  wish  I  was  my  own 
mistress,  but  I  suppose  such  thoughts  are  wrong.  At  any 
rate,  I  am  patient,  and  you  can  be  a  little  so,  too,  —  can't 
you?  A.B." 


230  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

I  did  not  much  wonder  that  Amanda  should  be  somewhat 
uneasy  lest  our  correspondence  —  the  manner  of  which,  to 
her  frank,  truthful  nature,  involved  a  certain  amount  of  de- 
ception —  should  be  discovered.  I  felt  a  slight  twinge  of 
conscience  on  perceiving  that  I  was  responsible  for  her  dis- 
quiet, and  confessed  that  her  faith  in  me,  as  measured  \>y 
her  patience,  must  exceed  mine  in  her.  My  love,  certainly, 
did  not  need  the  nourishment  of  letters  ;  but  silence  was  a 
pain,  and  I  was  much  better'  constituted  to  enjoy  than  to 
endure.  My  answer  was  long  and  consolatory  in  its  tone. 
I  admitted  my  impatience,  hinting,  however,  that  I  hoped 
the  cause  of  it  would  soon  terminate ;  that  I  fully  appre- 
ciated her  position,  so  much  more  delicate  and  difficult  than 
mine,  and  would  release  her  from  it  as  soon  as  the  improve- 
ment in  my  fortunes  would  allow.  Meanwhile,  I  said,  she 
should  only  write  when  she  felt  assured  that  she  ran  no  risk 
in  so  doing.  It  was  no  great  magnanimity  in  me  to  grant 
this,  under  the  circumstances,  yet  I  involuntarily  let  it  appear 
that  I  was  making  a  sacrifice  for  her  sake.  She  could  not 
help  feeling,  I  reasoned,  that  the  balance  of  patience  was 
now  restored  between  us. 

At  last  the  happy  morning  of  my  first  holiday  dawned,, 
I  was  fully  prepared  for  the  journey,  in  order  to  take  the 
ten  o'clock  train  for  Trenton.  A  small  and  elegant  travel- 
ling valise,  packed  the  night  before,  stood  on  the  top  of  my 
honest  old  trunk,  and  its  shining  leather  winked  at  me,  with 
an  expression  of  eagerness  for  its  mission.  Among  the 
contents,  I  need  not  say,  were  several  copies  of  "  Leonora's 
Dream,  and  Other  Poems,"  one  of  them  bound  in  green 
morocco,  with  gilt  edges.  After  I  had  arrayed  myself  in  a 
new  travelling-suit  of  light-brown,  and  carefully  adjusted 
the  bow  of  my  cinnamon-colored  cravat,  I  took  a  good  look 
at  my  face  in  the  little  mirror,  and  commended  what  I  saw. 
I  can  still  remember,  as  if  it  were  somebody  else's  face,  the 
dark,  earnest,  innocent  eyes,  filled  with  such  a  joyous  light ; 
the  low  brow  anc  thick,  wavy  locks  of  hair  the  smooth 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  281 

Cheeks,  already  pale  from  my  confined  life,  and  the  thin, 
sensitive  lips,  shaded  by  a  silky  moustache,  which  would  be 
red,  no  matter  how  my  hair  had  darkened.  My  features 
were  not  regular,  and  I  never  thought  of  making  any  claim 
to  be  called  handsome  ;  but  I  was  vain  enough  to  imagine 
that  there  was  something  "  interesting  "  in  my  face,  and 
that  1  would  not  disappoint  the  expectations  of  nry  Amanda. 
My  country  awkwardness,  at  least,  had  disappeared,  and  the 
self-possessed  air  which  had  come  in  its  stead  enabled  me 
to  use,  instead  of  obscure,  my  few  physical  advantages. 

My  ride  to  Trenton  was  shortened  by  the  active,  excited 
imagination,  which  ran  in  advance  and  prefigured,  in  a 
thousand  ways,  the  coming  meeting.  When  I  arrived  I 
found  that  I  was  too  late  for  the  afternoon  stage,  and,  on 
account  of  the  distance  across  the  country  to  Cardiff,  would 
be  obliged  to  wait  until  morning.  This  was  a  sore  inter- 
ruption, but  it  came  to  end,  and  sunrise  saw  me  once 
more  looking  on  the  green  Pennsylvanian  hills  from  the 
driver's  box.  I  enjoyed  the  fresh  summer  glory  of  the 
country  as  never  before  ;  success  was  behind  me  and  love 
beckoned  me  on.  What  wonder  if  the  meadow-larks  piped 
more  sweetly  than  ever  the  nightingale  in  Cephissian  thick- 
ets, or  if  the  blue  and  green  of  sky  and  earth  held  each 
other  in  a  lovelier  harmony  than  that  of  which  Herbert 
sang  ?  As  we  drove  onward,  the  two  hills  which  rise  to 
the  eastward  of  Cardiff  lifted  their  round,  leafy  tops,  afar 
off,  over  the  rim  of  the  horizon.  I  thought  them  the  gates 
of  Paradise. 

It  was  noon  when  the  stage  drew  up  beside  the  white 
porch  of  the  well-known  tavern,  and  the  driver  announced 
to  the  four  inside  passengers,  "  Fifteen  minutes  for  din- 
ner!" His  statement  was  noisily  verified  by  a  big  bell 
which  issued  from  the  central  door,  followed  by  the  arm 
and  then  the  body  of  the  stout  landlord,  who  looked  at 
me  doubtfully  as  I  entered,  but  did  not  seem  to  recog 
nize  me.  I  was  rather  glad  of  this,  as  it  proved  that  I  hac 


232  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

changed  considerably  in  my  appearance,  and,  I  hoped,  foi 
the  better.  I  was  Joo  hungry  to  slight  the  announcement 
of  dinner,  especially  as  I  had  determined  on  walking  ovei 
to  Upper  Samaria,  as  on  that  well-remembered  autumn 
day,  a  year  and  a  half  before. 

Taking  the  green  morocco  book  from  my  valise,  which  I 
left  in  the  landlord's  charge,  I  set  forth  on  my  journey,  in 
a  tumult  of  delicious  feelings.  I  know  that  I  was  frequently 
obliged  to  pause  when  my  breath  came  short  with  the  rapid 
beating  of  my  heart.  I  anticipated  and  measured  off  the 
distance,  and  computed  the  time,  saying  to  myself,  "  In  an 
hour  more  —  in  fifty  minutes  —  in  three-quarters  "  — 

When  I  reached  the  top  of  the  second  hill  from  Cardiff, 
and  looked  across  the  hollow  to  the  next  rise,  where  the 
road  skirts  Hannaford's  Woods,  I  saw  a  neat  open  wagon 
coming  up  towards  me.  The  team  had  a  familiar  air,  and 
I  stopped  and  inspected  it  with  some  curiosity.  I  scarcely 
knew  whether  to  be  pleased  or  alarmed  when  I  recognized 
Squire  Bratton  and  his  wife.  My  first  impulse,  I  fancy,  was 
to  leap  over  the  fence  and  take  a  wide  circuit  across  the 
fields  to  avoid  them ;  but  then  I  reflected  that  they  were 
probably  going  to  Cardiff,  leaving  the  coast  clear  for  my 
interview  with  Amanda.  It  would  be  my  duty  to  see  them 
when  they  returned,  and  my  reception  then  could  not  be 
prejudiced  by  greeting  them  now.  I  therefore  resumed 
my  walk,  but  more  slowly,  down  the  hill. 

As  the  wagon  approached,  I  could  see  that  Squire  Brat- 
ton  looked  more  than  usually  spruce  and  important.  His 
hat  was  set  well  back  upon  his  head,  and  the  ends  of  his 
upright  shirt-collar  made  two  sharp  white  triangles  upon 
the  broad  red  plain  of  his  cheeks.  He  snapped  his  whip- 
lash continually  in  the  air,  and  the  sound  prevented  me 
from  hearing  the  remarks  which,  from  the  motion  of  hia 
head  and  the  movement  of  his  mouth,  he  was  evidently 
making  to  his  wife.  He  did  not  seem  to  recognize  me  until 
we  wore  but  a  few  paces  apart. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  235 

"  Hallo  !     Why,  here  's  Godfrey ! "  he  exclaimed,  check 
ing  the  horses. 

I  approached  the  wheel,  and  shook  hands  with  both. 

"  Should  hardly  ha'  known  you,  with  that  bit  of  squirrel's 
tail  under  your  nose,"  said  the  Squire.  "  Coming  over  to 
see  us  all  again  ?  That 's  right." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  ;  "  I  am  on  my  way  to  Reading,  and 
did  not  like  to  pass  as  near  as  Cardiff,  without  calling  upon 
my  friends  in  Upper  Samaria.  I  hope  you  are  all  well." 

"  First-rate,  first-rate.  I  need  n't  ask  you.  You  've  got 
into  better  business  than  school-teaching,  I  should  reckon  ?  " 

O7 

I  smiled  in  conscious  triumph,  as  I  replied,  "  Oh  yes, 
much  better  in  every  way." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it.  Well  —  we  must  push  on.  See  you 
again  to-night  You  '11  find  our  house  open,  and  somebody 
there  you  '11  like  to  see  :  ha,  ha  ! " 

With  a  chuckle  of  satisfaction  and  a  pistol-volley  from 
his  whip,  Squire  Bratton  drove  away,  leaving  me  in  a  state 
of  profound  astonishment.  What  did  he  mean  ?  Could  it 
be  that  he  had  accidentally  discovered,  or  that  Amanda 
had  confessed,  the  truth,  and  that  he  intended  to  give  me 
a  hint  of  his  approbation  ?  It  seemed  almost  too  complete 
a  joy  to  be  real,  and  yet  I  could  give  his  words  no  other 
interpretation.  As  for  Mrs.  Bratton,  she  had  laughed  and 
nodded  her  head,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Go  on  —  it  's  all 
right ! "  The  more  incredible  my  fortune  seemed,  the  more 
sure  I  felt  that  it  must  be  true.  An  instant  feeling  of  grat- 
itude and  affection  for  the  old  couple  sprang  up  in  my 
heart.  I  turned  about,  as  if  to  thank  them  on  the  spot  for 
my  perfect  happiness,  but  their  team  had  gone  over  the 
hill  Then  I  hastened  forward,  up  the  long  rise,  with  feet 
that  scarcely  felt  the  road. 

Again  the  charming  valley  —  how  dear  its  every  feature 
now  !  —  lay  spread  before  me.  There  was  Yule's  Mill,  and 
ihe  glassy  pond,  and  the  chimneys  of  Bratton's  house,  ris- 
ing out  of  a  boss  of  leaves  ;  and  do  ,vn  the  stream,  over  the 


?84  JOHN  GODFREIS   FORTUNES. 

twinkling  lines  of  the  willows,  I  could  just  see  the  ragged 
top  of  the  old  hemlock,  sacred  to  the  first  confession  and 
surrender  of  love.  I  never  saw  a  lovelier,  happier,  more 
peaceful  scene :  I  never  expect  to  see  its  like  again. 

Now  my  road  led  down  between  the  sloping  fields  which 
caught  the  full  warmth  of  the  sun,  and  let  their  grain  romp 
and  roll  in  the  sweet  summer  wind,  until  it  bent  to  the 
level  of  the  creek,  around  the  knoll  where  I  had  sought  for 
trailing  arbutus,  on  that  day  whence  my  life  as  a  man  ought 
to  be  dated.  I  there  determined  to  cross  the  stream  above 
the  pond,  and  make  my  way  straight  through  the  narrow 
field  beyond,  to  Bratton's  house.  First  Amanda,  and  the 
positive  assurance  of  my  bliss  !  I  said. 

Hot  and  panting  with  excitement  and  the  rapidity  of  my 
motions,  I  gained  the  top  of  the  knoll  at  last,  but  a  stone's 
throw  from  the  house.  All  was  quiet  around.  The  trees 
aid  the  windows,  and  even  the  front  veranda,  from  the 
point  where  I  stood,  and  I  thought  of  the  magic  hedge 
around  the  palace  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty.  The  hundred 
years  had  passed,  and  I  was  the  fortunate  prince,  come  to 
waken  my  beloved  with  a  kiss.  I  paused,  and  held  back 
the  joy  at  my  lips,  that  I  might  the  longer  taste  its  perfect 
flavor.  All  at  once  I  heard  the  voice  of  some  one  singing, 
—  a  voice  moving  along  under  the  trees.  It  was  she  !  — 
I  saw  the  rose-tint  of  her  dress  through  the  gaps  in  the 
shrubbery.  I  saw  her  glide  along  towards  an  open  arbor 
of  lattice-work,  overgrown  with  clematis,  which  stood  on 
the  top  of  the  lawn,  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  house. 

Now  was  my  fortunate  moment !  I  sprang  over  the 
fence,  crept  down  behind  the  clumps  of  lilac  and  roses,  and 
reached  the  arbor  as  she  was  singing  the  line,  "  And  I  're 
seen  cm  eye  still  brighter"  (How  well  I  remember  it) 
Her  back  was  towards  me :  she  was  looking  out,  over  the 
railing,  down  the  road  to  the  mill.  How  lovely  her  slen- 
der figure,  clad  in  pink  lawn,  showed  in  the  green  frame ! 
I  could  no  longer  contain  myself,  but  cried  out.  in  a  voice 
which  I  vainly  strove  to  soften  to  a  whisper,  — 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  285 

"  Amanda  !     Dear  Amanda  ! " 

She  started,  with  a  gasp,  rather  than  a  scream,  of  sur 
prise.  She  turned  and  recognized  me :  a  fiery  blush  rar 
over  her  face  and  neck,  but  instantly  died  away,  leaving 
her  very  pale.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  mine  with  an 
expression  of  alarm  ;  her  lips  moved  a  little,  but  she  seemed 
unable  to  speak. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  to  frighten  you  so,  Amanda,"  I  said,  — 
u  but  I  am  so  glad,  so  happy  ! "  And  I  rushed  forward, 
threw  my  arms  around  her  waist,  and  bent  down  to  give 
her  the  kiss  for  which  I  had  hungered  so  long. 

But  she  screamed,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and 
twisted  herself  out  of  my  embrace.  "  Leave  me  alone  ! " 
she  said,  in  a  low,  hard  voice,  as  she  escaped  to  the  other 
side  of  the  table,  and  stood  there,  pale,  and  trembling  a 
little. 

"  Don't  be  angry,  darling  !  "  I  pleaded.  "  Is  n't  it  true, 
then,  that  your  father  and  mother  know  everything?  I 
met  them  on  the  road,  and  they  told  me  to  come  here  at 
once  —  that  you  would  be  glad  to  see  me.  I  thought  they 
must  know,  you  see,  and  that  all  our  troubles  were  over,  for 
I  'm  free  at  last,  —  I  am  my  own  master,  and  now  I  can 
speak  to  your  father.  It  will  all  come  out  right,  and  we 
will  be  rewarded  for  our  patience." 

I  gently  approached  her  as  I  spoke  these  words.  But 
she  put  out  her  hand  to  keep  me  away,  and  said,  with  her 
face  turned  from  me,  "  You  must  not  say  such  things  to 
ne,  Mr.  Godfrey." 

Something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  seemed  to  chill  my 
very  blood.  I  was  so  startled  and  astonished  that  the  first 
thought  which  came  into  my  head  forced  for  itself  a  pas- 
sionate utterance. 

"Amanda!"  I  cried,  "tell  me  what  all  this  means! 
What  have  you  heard  ?  Has  anybody  dared  to  slander  me 
in  my  absence,  and  have  you  believed  it  ?  " 

I  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  before  she  sprang  fortlr 
from  the  arbor,  crying,  "  Charles  !  Charles  1 " 


236  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

I  had  not  heard  the  approaching  step  on  the  laAvn.  but 
close  at  hand  arose  a  familiar  masculine  voice,  "  Why, 
what 's  the  matter,  dear  ? "  Looking  out,  I  was  petrified 
at  beholding,  three  paces  off,  my  Amanda  (I  still  thought 
her  mine)  clinging  to  Charley  Rand,  who  already  had  hi? 
arm  about  her  waist  Nor  did  he  relinquish  his  clasp  when 
he  lifted  his  head  and  saw  me. 

"  Godfrey  ! "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  where  did  you  drop  from, 
all  at  once  ?  " 

He  stretched  out  his  hand,  as  if  expecting  me  to  come 
forward  and  take  it.  I  stood  motionless,  striving  to  realize 
the  fact  of  this  double  treachery.  My  tongue  clove  to  my 
jaws,  and  I  was  unable  to  articulate  a  word. 

"  What  has  happened,  Amanda  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  Charles  ! "  she  murmured,  tenderly,  with  her  head 
on  his  shoulder,  "  Mr.  Godfrey  has  so  frightened  me." 

He  laughed.  "  Never  mind,"  he  said ;  "  you  seem  to 
have  frightened  him  quite  as  badly." 

Disengaging  his  arm,  he  now  approached  me.  I  invol- 
untarily retreated  a  step,  and  my  voice  returned  to  me. 

"  Stand  back,  Rand  ! "  I  cried.  "  What  are  you  doing 
here  ?  What  right  have  you  to  hold  Miss  Bratton  in  your 
arms?" 

"  Come,  now,  that 's  a  good  joke ! "  said  he,  with  an  inso- 
lent air, —  " Miss  Bratton ?  Mrs.  Rand,  you  mean!  Mrs 
Rand  since  two  days.  I  thought,  to  be  sure,  you  had  come 
down  on  purpose  to  congratulate  us." 

I  could  not  yet  believe  it.  "  Amanda !  "  I  said,  turning 
to  her,  and  speaking  with  a  voice  which  I  hardly  recognized 
as  my  own,  "  is  it  true  ?  Are  you  married  to  that  man  ?  " 

She  stood  up  and  looked  me  full  in  the  face.  There  was 
not  a  quiver  of  her  eyelids,  nor  a  shade  of  deeper  color  OK 
her  pale,  quiet  face.  "  Certainly,"  she  said. 

u  Good  God ! "  I  cried ;  "  you  could  break  your  fiiith  with 
me,  without  a  word!  This  is  your  truth!  This  is  your 
patience  !  You,  whom  I  have  so  loved,  for  whose  sake  I 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  287 

6ave  so  labored !  Rand,  did  you  know  that  she  and  I  were 
engaged  —  that  she  had  given  her  heart  to  me  —  that  -lie 
has  been  mine,  in  the  sight  of  God,  for  more  than  a  yeai 
past  ?  " 

I  saw,  while  I  was  speaking,  that  his  face  was  beginning 
to  grow  dark.  Amanda  must  have  noticed  it  also,  and  have 
instantly  decided  what  course  to  take,  for  she  confronted 
me  without  flinching,  the  settled  calm  of  her  face  stiffening 
nto  a  hard,  cold,  cruel  mask,  in  which  I  saw  her  true 
nature  expressed,  —  the  mingled  nature  of  the  cat  and  the 
serpent,  false,  selfish,  and  venomous. 

"  It  is  a  lie !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How  dare  you  say  such 
things  ?  I  never  was  engaged  to  you  —  I  never  told  you 
that  I  loved  you  !  " 

"  Amanda ! "  was  all  I  could  utter.  But  the  helpless 
appeal  of  love,  the  bitter  reproach,  the  hot  indignation  of 
an  honest  heart,  which  together  found  expression  in  that 
one  word,  were  shattered  against  the  icy  visage  of  her 
treachery.  She  turned  to  Rand,  with  a  tender,  frightened 
ah-,  saying,  "  Charles,  make  him  go  away  :  he  is  certainly 
crazy  !  " 

"  Come."  said  he,  "  we  've  had  quite  enough  of  this,  God- 
frey !  You  were  always  a  little  vain,  you  know,  and  you 
must  n't  think  that  because  a  young  lady  behaves  friendly, 
and  admires  your  writings,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  that 
she  's  dead  in  love  with  you.  I  don't  mind  your  prancing 
around  in  this  way,  so  far  as  I  'm  concerned,  but  I  won't 
see  my  wife  insulted." 

I  could  have  borne  anything  better  than  his  flippant,  pat- 
ronizing tone  ;  but,  indeed,  my  back  was  not  then  strong 
enough  to  bear  another  feather's-weight  of  burden.  It  was 
not  merely  that  the  cherished  bliss  of  my  life  was  dashed  to 
pieces  in  a  moment :  I  was  outraged,  humiliated,  wounded 
at  all  points.  My  conflicting  feelings,  all  surging  towards 
the  same  centre,  possessed  me  wholly,  body  and  brain,  and 
I  can  no  longer  disentangle  them,  in  memory.  I  was  mad 


288  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  Then  see  yourself  insulted !  "  I  shouted.  My  muscle? 
acted  of  themselves,  with  wonderful  rapidity.  Kand  re- 
ceived a  blow  in  the  face  and  tumbled  over  backwards 
upon  the  grass.  His  wife  screamed  and  seemed  to  be 
making  towards  me,  her  quiet  eyes  lighted  up  horribly  with 
a  white,  steely  blaze.  I  remember  turning  away  with  a 
contemptuous  laugh,  stumbling  down  the  lawn  like  a  drunk- 
en man,  with  a  dizzy  humming  in  my  ears,  and  finding 
my  way,  somehow,  to  a  lonely  nook  under  the  willows,  a 
short  distance  below  the  mill.  There  I  sat  down,  and  after 
sharp,  convulsive  pangs,  as  on  that  night  at  school  when 
Penrose  soothed  me,  the  storm  broke  into  tears.  I  covered 
my  face  with  my  hands  and  wept  long  and  passionately.  It 
was  impossible  to  think,  or  to  call  to  my  help  the  least  of 
the  consolations  which  afterwards  came.  I  could  feel  noth- 
ing but  the  deadly  hurt  of  the  wound. 

All  at  once,  as  the  violence  of  my  passion  was  wearing 
itself  out,  I  felt  a  hand  gently  pressing  my  shoulder.  I 
need  not  have  started,  with  a  sudden,  angry  suspicion  of 
further  treachery :  it  was  only  Dan  Yule.  I  took  his  hand, 
and  tried  to  say  something. 

He  sat  down  beside  me,  and  patted  my  leg,  with  a  kind 
familiarity.  "  Don't  mind  me"  said  he :  "I  guess  I  know 
what 's  the  matter,  havin'  had  a  suspicion  of  it  from  the  first 
I  seen  what  was  goin'  on  over  f  the  Squire's,  and  had  a 
good  mind  to  ha'  writ  to  you  about  it,  —  but,  thinks  I,  it 
a'n't  none  o'  my  business,  and  like  as  not  she 's  told  him 
herself,  and  so  I  'd  better  keep  clear.  But  I  did  n't  like  it 
none  the  more.  I  'd  just  got  in  a  big  saw-log  this  after- 
noon, when  I  seen  you  comin'  down  from  the  Squire's,  and 
turnin'  into  the  willers — seemed  like  as  if  you  did  n't 
exackly  know  where  you  was  goin'.  So  I  set  Jim  to  shut 
off  the  water  when  the  saw  got  to  f  other  end,  and  sneaked 
across  to  see  what  had  become  o'  you." 

Dan  kept  his  eyes  on  the  ground  while  he  spoke,  and 
mechanically  went  on  patting  my  leg,  as  if  both  anxious  to 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  28S 

comfort  me  in  some  way  and  fearful  lest  his  presence  was 
embarrassing.  I  said  something  at  last  about  my  disap- 
pointment being  so  unexpected  —  something  which  he  in 
terpreted  as  an  apology  for  my  weakness. 

"  You  need  n't  be  ashamed  on  it,"  said  he.  "  Lots  o'  fel- 
lows takes  on  that  way.  only  a  man  does  n't  like  to  be  seen 
I  s'pose  people  thinks  it  is  n't  jist  manly,  but  there  's  time.' 
when  you  can't  help  yourself.  You  don't  mean  that  you 
had  no  idee  she  was  married,  till  you  come  here  and  found 
it  out?" 

I  thereupon  told  Dan  the  whole  story,  ind  in  telling  it,  J 
saw  the  trick  which  Amanda  had  played  with  me  and  with 
her  own  conscience.  It  was  true  that  she  had  never  said, 
either  when  I  declared  my  love,  or  afterwards  in  her  letters, 
in  so  many  ivords,  that  she  loved  me  :  but  this  discovery  only 
made  the  actual  lie  more  enormous.  There  was  conscious 
cold-blooded  deception  from  the  beginning :  I  was  bound, 
but  not  she.  I  suppose  she  must  have  liked  me,  in  her 
passive  way ;  or  I  may  have  been  the  first  fish  that  came 
into  her  net  Whatever  her  motive  was,  in  allowing  me  to 
believe  my  love  returned,  her  selfish  calculation  in  the  mat- 
ter, from  beginning  to  end,  was  now  apparent  When  ] 
came  to  the  closing  scene  of  the  wretched  history,  Dan 
became  a  little  excited.  Instead  of  patting  my  leg,  he 
gave  it  a  spanking  slap,  and  swore,  in  a  general  way. 
without  launching  his  words  at  anybody  in  particular.  The 
blow  I  had  administered  to  Rand  put  him  in  a  good  humor 
again. 

"  I  dunno  but  I  'd  ha'  done  it  myselfj  in  your  place,"  he 
said.  "  Though  it  is  n't  likely  that  he  was  so  much  to  blarne, 
after  all.  if  he  did  n't  know  nothin'  about  it  before." 

The  thought  had  not  occurred  to  me.  I  immediately 
recognized  its  justice,  and  began  to  feel  ashamed  of  myself. 

"  Well,  John."  Dan  continued,  "  I  reckon,  now,  you  '11 
come  over  and  stay  with  us  to-night.  Miss  Lavina  's  back 
again  this  summer,  and  she  has  vour  room  ;  but  Ike  's  away, 


240  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

and  you  can  put  up  for  the  night  with  me.  Miss  Lavina,  1 
need  n't  mind  tellin'  you,  is  likely  to  stay  with  us.  Sue  '11  be 
married  after  harvest,  and  I  Ve  kind  o'  prevailed  on  Lavins» 
to  take  her  place." 

Dan  looked  so  sheepish  and  happy  that  I  understood 
I  iin.  1  thanked  him  for  all  his  past  and  present  kindness, 
and  congratulated  him  with  fresh  tears  in  my  eyes,  on  the 
fortune  which  I  never,  never  should  know.  I  felt,  never- 
theless, that  it  was  impossible  to  accept  his  invitation,  —  im- 
possible for  me,  in  my  agitated  state,  to  spend  more  time  in 
Upper  Samaria  than  would  be  required  to  get  over  the  bor- 
ders of  the  township.  I  told  him  this,  and  he  seemed  to 
understand  it.  He  had  lighted  his  pipe,  and  was  leaning 
against  one  of  the  willows,  comfortably  smoking.  As  I 
arose  from  my  seat  on  the  log,  some  hard  substance  in  my 
breast-pocket  struck  my  arm. 

"  Dan,"  I  said,  "  have  you  a  match  ?  " 
"  Yes.  Have  you  learned  to  smoke,  at  last  ?  " 
I  said  nothing,  but  took  the  match  he  offered,  and  the 
green  morocco,  gilt-edged  copy  of  "  Leonora's  Dream,"  on 
the  fly-leaf  of  which  I  had  written  a  sonnet,  —  O  misery  ! 
—  a  sonnet  full  of  the  truest  and  the  tenderest  love,  to  the 
wife  of  Charley  Rand  !  I  doubled  back  the  sumptuous  cov- 
ers, and  turned  the  leaves  from  me,  that  I  might  not  see 
one  word  of  that  mockery,  which  I,  poor  fool !  had  written 
with  tears  of  joy  dimming  my  eyes  ;  then,  striking  fire  with 
the  match,  I  held  it  to  the  book. 

«  Gosh  !  "  exclaimed  Dan  ;  "  what 's  that  for  ?  " 
The  flames  soon  devoured  not  only  the  manuscript  but 
all  the  hundred  and  twenty  pages  of  my  immortal  verse. 
Then  T  threw  the  glittering  cover  on  the  ground,  and 
stamped  on  it  with  fiendish  satisfaction.  When  it  had  been 
so  bruised  and  disfigured  that  the  title  was  illegible,  I  flung 
it  down  the  bank  into  the  stream. 

I  watched  it  as  it  drifted  slowly  along,  past  rotting  snag 
and  slimy  grass,  past  oozy  banks,  and  flats  of  rank  skunk 


*'.-SiN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  24.1 

cabbage,  and  felt  tbat  my  own  gilt-edged  dreams  were  flung 
with  it  to  as  foul  a  fate.  I  had  lost  my  love,  and  it  left  no 
consecration  behind, —  nothing  but  shame,  and  bitterness 
of  heart,  and  contempt  for  what  I  had  reverenced  in  myself 
as. most  holy! 


242  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FOUTDWC& 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

RELATING     HOW    I    CAME    INTO     POSSESS-   •*     OF    MY    INHKR 
ITANCE. 

AN  hour  before  sunset  I  found  myself  again  on  the  ridge 
overlooking  the  valley.  I  was  weak  and  tired,  and  as  I 
leaned  upon  the  fence  after  climbing  the  long  ascent,  I  was 
conscious  of  the  dismal  change  which  had  come  upon  the 
beautiful  world  of  three  hours  before.  I  saw  the  same 
woods  and  hills,  but  the  foliage  had  become  hard  and  black, 
the  fields  dreary  in  their  flat  greenness,  and  the  sky  seemed 
to  hold  itself  aloof  in  a  cold  divorce  from  the  landscape  to 
which  it  had  so  lately  been  softly  wedded.  Night,  or  storm, 
or  winter,  would  have  been  less  cheerless.  An  unutter- 
able sense  of  loneliness  filled  my  heart.  I  was  still  young 
enough  to  suppose  that  all  emotions  were  eternal  simply 
because  they  were  emotions.  I  was  sure  that  my  love 
would  never  have  faded  or  changed  ;  now  it  was  violently 
torn  from  me,  leaving  a  pang  in  its  place,  to  inherit  its  own 
enduring  life.  The  world  could  give  nothing  to  compen- 
sate me  for  this  loss.  Better  would  it  be  if  I  could  die,  and 
so  escape  the  endless  procession  of  dark,  blighted,  hopeless 
days.  Then  I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  and  stood  face  to  face 
with  that  Doubt  which  suspends  us,  trembling,  over  the 
abyss  of  nothingness.  I  asked  that  question  which  no  hu- 
man mind  dare  long  entertain,  —  that  question,  the  breath 
of  which  crumbles  Good  and  Evil,  Time,  Faith,  and  Provi- 
dence, making  of  life  a  terror  and  a  despair.  The  outer 
crust  of  thought,  upon  which  I  had  lived,  gave  way,  and  I 
looked  shudderingly  down  into  central  deeps  of  darknesi 
and  of  fire. 


JOHN    GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  248 

The  struggle  which  my  nature  was  undergoing  will  be 
better  understood  when  its  mixed  character  is  considered 
Either  pure  sorrow  for  a  lost  love,  or  vain  yearning  for  a 
love  which  had  been  withheld,  could  have  been  compre- 
hended by  the  heart,  and  therefore  so  grasped  as  to  be  best 
borne  ;  but  this  —  what  was  it  ?  A  tumult  of  love  and  hate, 
—  for  the  habit  of  a  year  could  not  be  unlearned  in  a  mo- 
ment, —  disappointed  hope,  betrayed  faith,  devotion  igno- 
rantly  given  to  heartless  selfishness,  a  revelation  of  the 
baseness  of  human  nature  shed  upon  a  boundless  trust  in 
its  nobility  !  It  assailed  all  my  forms  of  faith  at  once,  de- 
priving me  not  only  of  love,  but  of  the  supports  which 
might  have  helped  me  to  bear  its  loss. 

1  knew  that  she,  henceforth,  would  hate  me.  Even  if 
some  rudimentary  hint  of  a  conscience  existed  in  her  na- 
ture, and  the  remembrance  of  her  deception  were  able  tc 
give  it  an  occasional  uneasiness,  the  blow  I  inflicted  on  hei 
husband,  before  her  eyes,  more  than  cancelled  the  wrong. 
She  would  now  justify  herself  to  herself,  as  fully  as  to  him. 
If  the  story  were  ever  disclosed,  both,  of  course,  would  be 
considered  the  aggrieved  parties  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
and  I  the  vain,  adventurous  miscreant. 

I  walked  slowly  and  wearily  back  to  Cardiff,  keeping  a 
good  lookout  for  the  vehicle  of  the  elder  Brattons,  which  I 
discerned  far  enough  in  advance  to  avoid  successfully.  The 
landlord  by  this  time  had  found  out  who  I  was,  and  tor- 
tured me  with  stories  about  the  marriage,  which  I  had  not 
tact  enough  to  escape.  It  appeared,  from  what  he  said, 
that  Squire  Bratton.  Mulford,  and  Rand's  father,  with  some 
others,  were  concerned  in  a  speculation  for  buying  coal- 
lands,  the  profits  whereupon  were  to  be  realized  when  a  cer- 
tain projected  railroad  had  been  built.  Rand  himself  was 
believed  to  have  a  minor  share  in  the  enterprise ;  he  was 
reckoned  to  be  "  a  mighty  smart  business-man,"  and  the 
Squire  took  to  him  from  the  start.  He  had  frequently  come 
down  from  Reading  during  the  previous  winter,  but  the 


244  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

•natch  had  not  been  talked  about  until  a  few  weeks  befi  re 
it  took  place.  They  were  going  to  Reading  to  live,  the 
landlord  said,  and  the  old  folks  were  quite  set  up  about  k. 

I  gave  a  melancholy  groan  of  relief,  when  I  at  last  found 
myself  in  bed,  and  surrounded  by  congenial  darkness.  I 
fried  to  compose  my  thoughts  to  my  accustomed  prayer, 
but  the  spectre  I  had  invoked  showed  a  blank  where  I 
had  once  seen  the  face  of  God.  Men  were  nothing  but 
accidental  combinations  of  atoms,  it  said  ;  Life  was  a  tem- 
porary condition,  and  joy,  sorrow,  duty,  love,  were  things 
of  education,  unreal  and  perishable ;  there  was  neither  Vir- 
tue nor  Vice  but  in  imagination,  —  neither  happiness  nor 
misery,  nor  anything  positive  but  physical  sensation  —  and 
that  only  while  it  lasted.  So  far  from  shrinking  from  these 
suggestions,  I  took  a  fearful  pleasure  in  following  them  to 
their  common  termination,  on  the  brink  of  that  gulf  where 
all  sentient  existence  melts  into  nothing,  as  smoke  into  air. 

The  next  day  I  took  the  stage  to  Reading,  performing 
the  journey  in  the  same  hardened,  apathetic  mood.  There 
was  even,  at  times,  a  grim  satisfaction  in  the  thought  that  I 
was  now  free  from  every  emotion  which  could  attach  me  to 
my  fellow-beings,  —  free  from  the  duties  of  blood,  the  ten- 
der allegiance  of  love,  the  services  of  friendship.  I  saw 
nothing  but  selfishness  in  the  world  ;  I  would  be  selfish  too. 

Reaching  Reading  in  the  evening,  I  took  up  my  quarters 
at  the  "  Mansion  House."  I  was  in  no  mood  to  claim  my 
uncle's  hospitality,  although  the  grievance  I  had  borne 
against  him  now  seemed  a  very  insignificant  thing.  I  was 
neither  afraid  of  him  nor  his  efforts  to  procure  me  "  a 
change  of  heart."  Nearly  two  years  had  elapsed  since  that 
episode  of  my  life,  and  I  was  beginning  to  see  how  much  I 
had  exaggerated  its  character.  I  had  no  dread  of  the 
approaching  interview.  Indeed,  I  so  far  relented  towards 
Aunt  Peggy  as  to  take  a  copy  of  my  volume  for  presenta- 
*ion  to  her. 

When  I  went  down  Penn  Street  after  breakfast,  the  next 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  245 

.  to  the  well-known  corner,  I  saw  that  a  change  — 
which,  nevertheless,  did  not  surprise  me  —  had  occurred  in 
the  establishment.  The  old,  weather-beaten  sign  had  dis- 
appeared, and  in  its  place  was  a  new  one,  white  ground  and 
black  letters,  shaded  with  blue :  "  WOOLLEY  AXD  HIMPEL'? 
GUOCKKY  STOUK."  Bolty  was  not  so  stupid  as  his  heavy 
face  and  sleepy  eyes  proclaimed.  He  had  already  made 
his  nest,  and  would  not  be  long  in  feathering  it  comfort- 
ably. 

There  he  was,  behind  the  counter,  a  little  more  brisk  in 
his  movements  than  formerly,  and  with  every  bit  of  his 
familiar  loquacity.  He  was  a  trifle  taller,  and  his  white  hair 
was  brushed  straight  up  from  his  forehead  instead  of  being 
cut  short  His  thick,  pale  lips  hung  half-open,  as  usual,  and 
his  eyes  expressed  the  same  lazy  innocence,  but  I  fancied  I 
could  see  the  commencement  of  a  cunning  wrinkle  at  their 
corners.  He  wore  a  short  jacket  of  grass-cloth,  buttoned 
in  front  which  arrangement  I  admired,  for  I  knew  that  the 
bosom  of  his  shirt  was  not  wont  to  be  in  a  presentable  con- 
dition. 

As  I  appeared  at  the  door,  he  recognized  me  at  once. 
Catch  him,  indeed,  forgetting  any  face  he  had  ever  known  ! 
I  suspect  he  still  retained  a  sort  of  phlegmatic  liking  for 
me,  or  at  least  was  now  satisfied  that  I  could  no  longer 
interfere  with  his  plans,  for  he  slipped  along  the  counter 
towards  me  with  every  appearance  of  cordiality,  stretch- 
ing out  his  fat  hand  as  he  cried,  "  Why,  John  Godfrey !  Is 
that  you  now  ?  And  you  've  come  back  to  see  us,  after  so 
long  !  I  declare  I  did  n't  know  what  had  become  o'  you 
—  but  you  're  lookin'  well  —  wery  well  —  better  as  ever  I 
see  you.  —  Yes,  ma'am !  The  '  Peruvian  Preventative,'  did 
you  say  ?  You  could  n't  take  nothin'  better ;  we  sells  cart- 
loads o'  boxes  —  cart-loads,  and  the  more  people  use  'em 
the  more  they  wants  'em ! " 

He  was  off  and  waiting  upon  the  customer,  —  a  woman 
from  the  country,  with  very  few  front  teeth  and  a  sun-bon 


'246  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

net,  —  before  I  could  say  a  word.  I  was  so  amused  uf  thia 
exhibition  of  his  old  habits,  that,  for  the  first  time  iu  two 
days,  I  felt  the  sensation  of  laughter  creeping  back  to  its 
accustomed  nook.  Presently  the  woman  left,  and,  the  store 
being  now  empty,  Bolty  returned  to  me. 

"  You  was  a  little  surprised,  was  n't  you  ?  "  he  asked,  "  to 
see  my  name  over  the  door.  It 's  been  up  sence  Easter, 
and  we  're  doin'  wery  well  —  wery  well,  indeed.  'T  a'n't 
much  of  an  int'rest  I  Ve  got,  though,  —  only  a  quarter,  but 
it 's  a  good  beginnin'.  The  customers  knows  me,  you  see, 
and  they  stick  to  me.  Mr.  Woolley  's  got  a  good  deal  of 
other  business  on  his  hands  now." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  have  heard  of  it." 

"  Coal-lands  ?  Yes ;  you  Ve  heerd  right.  Not  that  I 
know  much  about  it.  He  's  awful  close,  Mr.  Woolley  is,  — 
keeps  his  own  counsel,  as  he  says,  and  Mulford  and  Rand's 
too,  I  guess.  But  what  have  you  a-been  carryin'  on  ?  You 
look  mighty  smart,  so  I  guess  it  ha'n't  been  a  bad  spec." 

I  told  Bolty  as  much  in  reference  to  my  position  in  New 
York  as  I  thought  proper,  and  then  asked  for  my  uncle. 

"  He  's  gone  down  to  the  canawl,"  said  Bolty ;  "  but  he  '11 
be  back  as  soon  as  the  Banks  is  open." 

"  Then  I  '11  go  in  an  '  see  Aunt  Peggy." 

I  entered  the  little  back-parlor.  The  sofa  and  chairs 
were  more  shiny  and  slippery  than  ever,  and  a  jagged  abat- 
tis  of  horse-hair  was  beginning  to  project  from  the  edges 
of  the  seats.  There  was  no  improvement  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  room  since  I  had  left ;  —  nothing  had  been 
taken  away,  and  nothing  added  except  a  mezzotint  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Mellowby,  in  a  flat  mahogany  frame.  My  ami  I 
was  not  there,  but  I  heard  noises  in  the  kitchen,  and  went 
thither  without  further  ceremony. 

Aunt  Peggy  was  bending  over  the  stove,  with  a  handker 
chief  around  her  head,  an  old  calico  apron  over  her  dress, 
a  pot-lid  in  one  hand  and  a  pewter  spoon  in  the  other. 

"  Well,  Aunt  Peggy."  said  I,  "  how  do  you  do  by  this 
time?" 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  24? 

She  was  very  much  surprised,  of  course ;  but  she  trans 
ferred  the  spoon  to  the  hand  which  held  the  pot-lid,  and 
greeted  me  with  a  mixture  of  embarrassment  and  affection 
A  few  tears  certainly  dropped  from  her  eyes,  but  I  knew 
how  easily  they  came,  and  did  not  feel  encouraged  to  make 
any  great  show  of  emotion. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  've  come  to  see  us,  John,"  she  said,  in  her 
most  melancholy  tone.  "  Walk  into  the  settin'-room.  I  'd 
like  to  hear  that  you  don't  bear  malice  against  your  rela- 
tions, that  meant  to  do  for  your  good.  It  seemed  hard, 
goin'  away  the  way  you  did." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Peggy,  let  bygones  be  bygones.  I  dare  say 
you  meant  to  do  right,  but  it  has  turned  out  best  as  it  is." 

"  I  had  mournin'  enough,"  she  said,  "  that  things  could  n't 
have  gone  as  me  and  your  uncle  wanted;  but  I  s'pose 
we  've  all  got  to  have  our  trials  and  tribulations." 

That  was  all  we  said  about  the  matter.  I  was  well 
dressed,  and  gave  a  most  favorable  account  of  my  worldly 
prospects,  and  my  aunt  seemed  considerably  cheered  and 
relieved.  I  suspect  that  her  conscience  had  been  tormented 
by  the  fear  of  her  sister's  son  becoming  a  castaway,  and  that 
she  had  therefore  been  troubled  with  doubts  in  regard  to 
the  circumstances  which  drove  me  from  her  roof.  My  suc- 
cess removed  that  trouble,  at  least  Then  I  presented  the 
book,  in  which  I  had  turned  down  leaves  to  mark  a  few 
poems  of  a  religious  character,  which  I  thought  she  might 
read  with  some  satisfaction.  Such  things  as  "  The  Lament 
of  HPFO,"  I  knew,  would  be  quite  unintelligible  to  her.  She 
was  greatly  delighted  with  the  present,  promising  to  show 
it  to  Mr.  Cutler,  the  new  minister. 

We  were  getting  on  very  pleasantly  together,  when  my 
uncle  entered  from  the  shop.  As  Bolty  had  apprised  him 
of  my  arrival,  his  face  expressed  more  curiosity  than  sur- 
prise. His  greeting  was  cordial,  but  its  cordiality  did  not 
strike  me  as  being  entirely  natural.  His  hair  had  grown 
grayer,  but  there  was  no  shade  of  difference  in  the  var 


248  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

nished  cheeks  and  the  large  tight  mouth.  Intercourse  with 
his  new  associates  had  already  given  him  a  mote  worldly 
air.  It  was  certain  that  neither  his  unworthiness  nor  his 
fortunate  assurance  of  "  grace  "  occupied  his  thoughts  so 
much  as  formerly.  Considering  what  had  passed  between 
us,  I  felt  more  at  ease  in  his  presence  than  I  had  antici- 
pated. 

"  You  look  very  well,  John,"  said  he.  "  I  hope  you  have 
been  at  least  successful  in  temporal  things." 

He  could  not  deny  himself  this  insinuation,  but  I  was  no 
longer  sensitive  on  the  point,  and  did  not  notice  it  Of 
course,  I  represented  my  affairs  to  him  in  the  most  pros- 
perous light,  setting  forth  my  promising  chances  for  the 
future,  while  feeling  in  my  heart  their  utter  hollowness  and 
vanity. 

"  Well,  you  're  settled  at  a  business  that  seems  to  suit 
you,"  he  said.  "  That 's  a  good  thing.  You  've  gone  your 
way  and  I  've  gone  mine,  but  there  need  not  be  any  diffi- 
culty between  us." 

"  No,  Uncle  Amos,"  I  replied.  "  I  have  learned  to  tak< 
care  of  myself.  The  principal  object  of  my  visit  is  to  re- 
lieve you  from  all  further  trouble  on  my  account." 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,"  I  exclaimed,  a  little  astonished,  "  don't  you  know 
that  I  am  twenty-one  ?  " 

"  Twenty-one !  Oh  —  ah  !  Yes,  I  see.  Are  you  sure 
of  it  ?  I  did  not  think  it  was  so  soon." 

Somehow,  his  words  made  an  unpleasant  impression  upon 
me.  I  soon  convinced  him,  by  the  mention  of  certain  dates, 
that  I  knew  my  own  age,  and  then  added,  "  I  am  now  en- 
titled to  my  money,  you  know.  If  you  put  out  last  year'? 
interest,  there  must  have  been  more  than  eighteen  hundred 
dollars  due  to  me  on  the  first  of  April." 

"  Yes."  said  he,  "  of  course  I  put  it  out.  But  I  really 
did  n't  suppose  you  would  want  the  capital  at  once.  I  did  n't 
—  hm,  well  —  make  arrangements  to  have  it  ready  at  • 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  24i' 

moment's  warning.  You  see,  John,  you  should  have  noti- 
fied me  in  the  proper  way  beforehand.  This,  I  may  say, 
is  not  notifying  me  at  all.  Besides,  why  should  you  want 
the  money  now  ?  What  will  you  do  with  it  ?  You  surely 
would  n't  think  of  speculating  in  the  stock-market ;  that  'd 
be  throwing  it  to  the  four  winds.  If  you  put  it  in  the  sav- 
ings-bank, you  '11  only  get  five  per  cent,  instead  of  six,  as 
you  get  now.  Why  not  let  it  be  where  it  is  ?  Use  the 
interest  if  you  want :  I  might  advance  you  this  year's, 
though  it 's  put  out  too,  —  but  when  you  've  got  your  cap- 
ital safe,  keep  it  so." 

"  I  wish  to  have  my  own  money  in  my  own  hands,"  1 
answered,  rather  coldly.  "  I  never  supposed  a  notification 
would  be  necessary,  as  you  knew  I  was  entitled  to  recei  se 
the  money  as  soon  as  I  came  of  age.  I  consider  myself 
capable  of  taking  care  of  it,  and  even  if  I  should  lose  it, 
that  is  altogether  my  own  business." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt,  no  doubt,"  said  my  uncle.  He  rubbed 
his  shiny  cheek  and  stretched  out  his  lower  jaw,  as  if  per- 
plexed. "  You  are  entitled  to  the  money,  that  is  all  right 
enough,  but  —  but  it 's  still  out,  and  I  don't  see  how  I 
could  get  it,  just  now." 

"  At  any  rate,  you  can  transfer  the  bond  —  or  whatever 
it  is  —  to  me.  That  will  be  equivalent  to  the  money,  for 
the  present." 

Uncle  Amos  grew  very  red  in  the  face,  and  was  silent 
for  a  few  minutes.  His  arm-chair  seemed  to  be  an  uneasy 
seat  He  looked  at  me  once,  but  instantly  turned  his  eyes 
away  on  encountering  mine.  At  last  he  said,  "  I  can't 
well  do  that,  John,  because  it  a'n't  invested  separately  — 
it 's  along  with  a  good  deal  of  my  own.  You  see,  it 's  this 
way,  —  I  '11  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  then  I  think  you  '11  be 
satisfied  to  leave  things  as  they  are.  I  've  gone  into  an 
operation  with  some  other  gentlemen,  —  we  keep  rather 
dark  about  it,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  say  anything,  —  and 
ire  've  bought  up  a  big  tract  of  land  in  Monroe  County 


250  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

among  the  mountains,  where  there  's  sure  to  be  coal.  It 
a'n't  worth  much  now,  but  when  the  railroad  is  opened, 
there 's  no  telling  what  we  may  n't  sell  out  for.  The  road  '9 
pretty  sure  to  be  put  through  in  a  year  or  two,  and  then 
the  loss  of  interest  in  the  mean  time  will  be  nothing  in 
comparison  to  the  profit  we  shall  make  by  the  operation. 
There  are  ten  thousand  acres  in  all,  and  I  was  put  down 
for  one  thousand  ;  but  there  were  other  expenses,  surveyors, 
and  we  had  to  pay  a  geologist  a  big  price  to  take  a  quiet 
Hook  at  the  place  ;  so  I  had  n't  enough  of  my  own,  without 
putting  yours  with  it.  I  intend  you  shall  go  share  and 
share  with  me  in  the  profits.  You  may  get  six  hundred, 
or  six  thousand  per  cent,  instead  of  six.  Don't  you  see 
how  much  better  that  will  be  for  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't ! "  I  cried.  I  was  again  thunderstruck,  and 
the  bitter  tumult  of  my  feelings  began  to  rage  anew.  "  I 
see  only  this,  that  you  had  no  right  to  touch  a  cent  of  my 
money.  It  was  put  in  your  charge  by  my  poor  mother,  to 
be  returned  to  me  when  it  should  become  due,  not  to  be 
risked  in  some  mad  speculation  of  yours,  about  which  I 
know  nothing  except  that  one  infernal  scoundrel  at  least 
is  engaged  in  it !  You  to  warn  me  against  risking  it  in 
stocks,  indeed !  If  you  meant  me  to  go  share  and  share 
with  you,  why  did  you  ask  me  to  be  satisfied  with  six  per 
cent.  ?  " 

My  uncle's  eyes  fell  at  these  words.  I  saw  my  advan- 
tage, and  felt  a  wicked  delight  in  thus  holding  him  at  my 
mercy.  His  face  looked  clammy,  and  his  chin  dropped, 
giving  a  peculiarly  cowed,  helpless  expression  to  his  mouth 
When  he  spoke,  there  was  a  tone  in  his  voice  which  I 
had  never  before  heard. 

"  I  know,  John,"  he  said,  "  that  you  don't  like  me  overly, 
and  perhaps  you  won't  believe  what  I  say ;  but,  indeed,  I 
did  mean  to  share  the  profits  with  you.  I  thought,  only, 
if  you  'd  leave  the  money  in  my  hands,  I  would  n't  say  any- 
thing about  the  operation  yet  awhile.  It 's  done  now,  and 
can't  be  helped." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  251 

•*  Why  not  ? "  I  asked.  "  You  can  borrow  the  money,  on 
your  house  and  store.  Give  me  what  belongs  to  me,  and 
you  may  keep  all  the  profits  of  your  '  operation,'  —  if  you 
ever  get  any  !  " 

He  looked  around  with  an  alarmed  air,  carefully  closed 
the  kitchen-door,  and  then,  resuming  his  seat,  bent  forward 
and  whispered,  "  I  had  to  do  that,  as  it  was.  I  raised  all 
I  could  —  all  the  property  would  bear.  It  was  'most  too 
much  for  me,  and  I  could  n't  have  turned  the  corner  if  I 
had  n't  sold  out  a  quarter  interest  in  the  grocery  to  Bolty. 
I  wish  you  could  understand  it  as  I  do,  —  you  'd  see  that 
it 's  a  sure  thing,  perfectly  sure." 

It  was  enough  for  me  that  Bratton,  Mulford,  and  the 
Rands  were  concerned  in  the  business.  That  fact  stamped 
it,  in  my  mind,  as  a  cheat  and  a  swindle,  and  my  uncle,  it 
seemed,  was  no  better  than  the  others.  I  was  fast  harden- 
ing into  an  utter  disbelief  in  human  honesty.  It  was  not 
so  much  the  loss  of  the  money  which  I  felt,  though  even 
that  had  a  sanctity  about  it  as  the  double  bequest  of  my 
dead  father  and  mother,  which  I  had  hoped  would  bring 
me  a  blessing  with  its  use.  I  had  learned  to  earn  my 
living,  and  knew  that  I  should  not  suffer ;  but  I  was 
again  the  dupe  of  imposition,  the  innocent  victim  of  out- 
rage. 

I  was  conscious  of  a  strong  bodily  chill :  the  teeth  chat- 
tered in  my  head.  I  rose  from  my  seat,  turned  to  him  for 
the  last  time,  and  said,  "  Amos  Woolley,  you  know  that 
you  have  acted  dishonestly,  —  that  you  have  broken  your 
trust,  both  to  my  mother  and  me.  I  thought  once  that 
you  were  trying  sincerely  to  serve  God  in  your  own  blind, 
bigoted  way ;  but  now  I  see  that  Mammon  is  your  master. 
Get  you  a  change  of  heart  before  you  preach  it  to  others. 
I  will  not  prosecute  and  ruin  you,  by  showing  to  the  world 
your  true  character,  though  you  seem  to  have  cared  little 
whether  or  not  I  was  ruined  by  your  act.  If  you  should 
ever  repent  and  become  honest,  you  will  restore  me  mj 


252  JOHX  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

inheritance  ;  but,  until  you  do  it,  I  shall  not  call  you  '  uncle, 
I  shall  not  take  your  hand,  I  shall  not  enter  your  door ! " 

His  chin  dropped  lower,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  me 
with  a  reproachful  expression,  as  he  listened  to  my  sharp 
words.  I  put  on  my  hat  and  turned  towards  the  door. 
"  John  ! "  he  cried,  "  you  are  wrong  —  you  will  one  day  be 
sorry  for  what  you  have  said." 

Aunt  Peggy  at  that  moment  entered  from  the  kitchen 
"  You  're  not  goin'  away,  John  ?  "  she  said  ;  "  you  '11  come 
back  to  dinner  at  twelve  ?  " 

"  No,  aunt,"  I  answered  ;  "  I  shall  probably  never  come 
back  again  to  see  you.  Good-bye  ! "  And  I  picked  up  her 
hanging  hand. 

"  What  ails  you  ?     What  has  happened  ?  " 

a  Ask  your  husband." 

I  went  into  the  store,  closing  the  door  behind  me.  When 
I  saw  Bolty's  face  I  felt  sure  that  he  had  been  eavesdrop- 
ping. He  did  not  seem  surprised  that  I  was  going  away, 
and  I  fancied  there  was  something  constrained  and  artifi- 
cial in  his  parting,  "  Come  back  right  soon,  and  see  us 
again ! "  Perhaps  I  wronged  him,  but  I  was  not  in  a 
mood  to  put  the  best  construction  upon  anybody's  acts  cr 
words. 

I  walked  up  Penn  Street  at  a  rapid  rate,  looking  neither 
to  the  right  nor  left,  and  found  myself,  before  J  knew  it, 
high  up  on  the  side  of  Penn's  Mount,  beyond  and  above 
the  city.  The  walk  had  chased  away  the  chill  and  stag- 
nation of  my  blood.  I  was  flushed  and  panting,  and  choos- 
ing a  shady  bank,  I  sat  down  and  looked  once  more  upon 
the  broad,  magnificent  landscape.  I  was  glad  that  my 
brain,  at  last,  had  become  weary  of  thought  —  that  I  could 
behold  the  sparkle  of  the  river  and  the  vanishing  blue  of 
the  mountains  with  no  more  touch  of  sentiment  or  feeling 
than  the  ox  grazing  beside  me.  I  accepted  my  fortune 
with  an  apathy  which,  it  seemed,  nothing  could  ever  break. 
If  I  could  but  live  thus.  I  said,  seeing  men  as  so  many 


-TOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  253 

black  mites  In  the  streets  of  yonder  city,  hearing  only  a 
confused  hum  of  life,  in  which  the  individual  voice  of  every 
passion  is  lost,  and  be  content  myself  with  the  simple 
knowledge  of  my  existence  and  the  sensations  which  be- 
long to  it,  I  might  still  experience  a  certain  amount  of 
happiness. 


254          -701! NT  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IK    WHICH    1    DINE    WITH    MR.  CLARENDON  AND    MAKE    THR 
ACQUAINTANCE    OF    MR.  BRANDAGEE. 

I  WAS  back  again  at  my  post  before  my  stipulated  leave 
of  absence  had  expired.  Mr.  Clarendon  was  evidently  sur- 
prised, but  not  disagreeably  so,  at  my  unexpected  return, 
and,  when  I  reported  myself  to  him  in  his  private  office, 
asked  me  to  take  a  seat,  —  a  thing  he  had  never  done  since 
my  first  interview.  Beyond  an  occasional  scolding,  varied 
by  a  brief  word  of  commendation,  my  intercourse  with  him 
had  been  very  limited,  but  I  had  acquired  a  profound  re 
spect  both  for  his  character  and  his  judgment- 
After  I  was  seated,  he  laid  down  his  pen,  pushed  the  long 
slips  of  paper  to  one  side,  and  looked  at  me  across  the 
table. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Godfrey  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  Just  twenty-one." 

"  So  much  the  better.  You  have  plenty  of  time  yet  to 
find  out  what  you  can  do  best.  Or  are  you  like  most  young 
men  who  can  write  a  little,  and  suppose  that  you  are  capa- 
ble of  everything  ?  " 

"  I  never  supposed  that,"  I  protested. 

"  I  have  looked  through  your  book,"  he  continued.  [1 
had  presented  him  with  a  copy  soon  after  its  publication.] 
"  It  is  about  like  nine-tenths  of  the  poetry  that  is  published 
nowadays,  —  a  good  deal  of  genuine  feeling  and  sentiment, 
but  no  art.  Judging  by  the  degree  of  literary  cultivation 
in  the  public,  —  which  I  have  had  a  fair  opportunity  of 
learning,  —  I  should  think  it  would  be  generally  liked.  Bui 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES  26£ 

I  don't  want  you  to  be  misled  by  this  fact.  You  have  a 
ready  pen ;  your  talents  are  quick  and  flexible,  and,  with 
proper  schooling,  you  may  become  a  useful  and  successful 
newspaper  writer.  But  I  don't  think  you  will  ever  achieve 
distinction  as  a  poet.  Are  you  not  very  fond  of  reading 
Moore,  Scott,  and  Mrs.  Hemans  ?  " 

I  assented,  with  a  mixture  of  surprise  and  embarrass- 
ment. Mr.  Clarendon's  unfavorable  opinion,  however,  af- 
fected me  much  less  than  it  would  have  done  a  fortnight 
sooner. 

"  Let  me  advise  you,"  he  said,  "  to  drop  those  authors  for 
a  while,  and  carefully  read  "Wordsworth.  I  would  not  ask 
you  to  cease  writing,  for  I  know  the  request  would  be  use- 
less ;  and,  except  in  the  way  of  fostering  a  mistaken  am- 
bition, it  can  do  you  no  harm.  Your  prose  style  will  be 
none  the  worse  from  the  greater  compactness  of  thought 
and  the  richer  vocabulary  which  poetry  gives.  Only,"  he 
added,  with  a  smile,  "  pray  keep  the  two  in  separate  boxes. 
It  is  a  great  mistake  to  mix  them  as  some  writers  do." 

I  assured  Mr.  Clarendon  that  I  was  by  no  means  certain 
of  my  vocation  ;  that  the  volume  was  an  experiment,  which 
seemed  to  me  to  be  tolerably  successful,  but  I  did  not  sup- 
pose it  finally  settled  the  question.  I  was  greatly  obliged 
for  his  good  opinion  of  my  talents,  and  would  read  Words- 
worth as  he  recommended.  I  was  then  about  to  withdraw 
from  the  room,  but  he  detained  me  a  moment  longer. 

"  I  am  going  to  propose  a  change  in  your  duties,"  he  said. 
"  You  are  now  familiar  with  the  composition  of  a  newspaper, 
and  can  do  better  service,  I  think,  in  the  City  Department 
It  is  not  so  mechanical  as  your  former  work,  —  requires 
quickness,  correctness,  and  a  sprightly  style.  You  will  be 
much  out-of-doors,  of  course,  and  you  may  find  it  a  little 
harassing  at  the  start.  But  there  will  be  an  increase  of 
salary,  and  you  must  expect  to  earn  it" 

I  willingly  accepted  the  proposal,  for,  to  be  candid,  I  was 
getting  tired  of  the  monotony  of  "  condensing  the  miscella 


256  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

neons."  The  increase  of  my  salary  to  fifteen  dollars  a  weefc 
was  also  welcome.  My  satisfaction  in  saving  a  portion 
of  my  earnings  was  gone,  but  a  gloomier  motive  supplied 
its  place.  It  was  well  to  be  independent  of  the  selfish  race 
of  men, —  to  work  out  the  proud  and  contemptuous  liberty 
which  I  proposed  to  myself  as  my  sole  future  aim. 

Mrs.  Very  welcomed  me  back  with  the  empressement  due 
to  a  member  of  her  domestic  circle.  Mr.  Mortimer  shook 
hands  with  me  as  we  went  down  to  dinner,  with  an  air  whicl1 
said,  "  I  admit  your  equality  ;  "  and  Mrs.  Mortimer  bent  hei 
neck  some  three  quarters  of  an  inch  more  than  usual,  as 
she  allowed  her  tightly  gloved  hand  to  rest  for  a  second  in 
mine.  Miss  Dunlap  being  absent  on  a  visit  to  her  friends 
in  the  country,  my  seat  fell  next  to  Miss  Tatting,  who  made 
loud  and  particular  inquiries  as  to  how  I  found  my  rela- 
tives, and  was  it  a  nice  part  of  the  country,  and  which  way 
do  you  go  to  get  there,  and  did  the  ladies  come  to  New 
York  to  buy  their  trimmings,  —  all  of  which  I  could  have 
well  spared.  Swansford,  I  could  see,  was  truly  happy  to 
have  me  again  as  his  vis-a-vis,  and  in  spite  of  my  determi- 
nation to  trust  no  human  being,  I  could  not  help  acknowl- 
edging that  he  really  seemed  to  think  himself  my  friend. 
When  we  had  talked  for  an  hour  or  two,  in  the  attic,  I  was 
almost  sure  that  he  was,  and  that  I  was  his.  The  numb, 
steady  ache  of  my  wounds  was  beginning  to  tire  me ;  I 
longed  to  cry  out,  even  though  I  were  heard. 

It  was  a  still,  sultry  evening.  "We  sat  together  at  the 
window  until  the  stars  came  out,  and  looked  down  on  the 
felt  partitions  between  the  back-yards,  and  the  mosquitoes 
began  to  rise  from  a  neighboring  rain-water  cistern.  Swans- 
ford  had  played  to  me  his  last  composition,  —  something  in 
the  minor  key,  as  usual,  —  and  I  felt  the  hardness  and  cold- 
ness of  my  mood  give  way. 

"  Come,  old  fellow,"  I  said,  "  I  am  five  dollars  a  week 
richer  than  I  was.  Let  us  go  out  and  baptize  the  circum* 
stance." 


JOHN   GODFREY'S    fORTUNES.  257 

He  was  quite  ready  to  join  me.  He  had  a  pinched  and 
hungry  look  ;  31  rs.  Very's  provender  was  not  adapted  tv, 
his  delicate  taste,  and  there  were  days  when  he  scarcely  ate 
enough  to  support  life.  We  walked  up  the  Bowery,  arm 
in  ann.  crossed  through  Grand  Street  to  Broadway,  and 
finally  descended  into  a  glittering  cellar  under  the  Metro- 
politan Hotel.  I  had  resolved  to  be  as  splendid  as  pos- 
sible. It  was  not  long  before  we  wer^  installed  in  a  little 
room,  as  white  and  bright  as  paint  an  1  gas  could  make  it, 
with  dishes  of  soft-shell  crabs  and  lettuce  before  us,  and  a 
bottle  of  champagne,  in  ice,  on  the  floor. 

I  had  a  presentiment  that  I  should  tell  Swansford  every- 
thing, and  I  did.  But  it  was  not  until  the  crabs  and  lettuce 
had  disappeared,  and  an  additional  half-bottle  found  its  way 
to  the  cooler.  I  had  no  fault  to  find  with  his  sympathy. 
He  echoed  my  bitterest  denunciations  of  the  treachery  and 
selfishness  of  men.  but  would  not  quite  admit  the  utter 
falsehood  of  women,  nor,  moreover,  my  claim  to  be  con- 
sidered the  most  wronged  of  human  beings. 

"  What  can  be  worse  ?  "  I  cried,  quite  reckless  whether 
or  not  my  voice  was  heard  in  the  neighboring  stalls.  "  Can 
you  tell  me  of  any  harder  blow  than  that  ?  I  don't  believe 
it!" 

There  were  tears  of  outraged  love  in  my  eyes,  and  his 
seemed  to  be  filling  too.  He  shook  his  head  mournfully, 
and  said,  "  Yes,  Godfrey,  there  is  a  worse  fate  than  yours. 
Your  contempt  for  her  will  soon  heal  your  love  :  but  think, 
now.  if  she  were  true,  if  she  were  all  of  womanly  purity  and 
sweetness  that  you  ever  dreamed  her  to  be,  if  you  knew  that 
she  could  never  love  but  yourself,  —  and  then,  if  she  were 
forced  by  her  heartless  family  to  marry  another  !  Think 
what  it  would  be  to  know  her,  day  and  night,  given  to  him, 
—  to  still  believe  that  her  heart  turned  to  you  as  yours  to 
her,-—  to  add  endless  pity  and  endless  agony  to  the  yearn- 
ing of  love ! " 

His  hands  were  tightly  clasped  on  the  table  before  him, 
17 


258  JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

and  the  tears  were  running  down  his  thin  cheeks  as  he 
spoke.  I  knew  his  story  now,  and  my  pity  for  his  suffer- 
ings beguiled  me  into  semi-forgetfulness  of  my  own.  I  was 
unable  to  speak,  but  stretched  out  my  hand  and  grasped 
his.  Our  palms  met  in  a  close,  convulsive  pressure,  and 
we  knew  that  we  were  thenceforth  friends. 

The  next  day  I  was  both  surprised  and  flattered  on 
receiving  an  invitation  to  dine  with  Mr.  Clarendon.  Mr. 
Severn,  who  shared  the  honor,  stated  to  me  confidentially, 
"  He  would  n't  have  done  it,  if  he  did  n't  look  upon  you  as 
one  of  our  stock  workers."  It  was  one  of  his  Wonder  din- 
ners, as  they  were  called,  embracing  only  gentlemen  con- 
nected in  some  way  with  the  paper.  He  was  in  the  habit 
of  giving  three  or  four  every  year,  —  a  large  anniversary 
dinner  in  the  winter,  and  smaller  ones  at  intervals  of  three 
months.  Mr.  Horrocks,  the  chief  editor  of  the  Avenger, 
gave  similar  entertainments  to  his  subordinates,  and  there 
was  a  standing  dispute  between  them  and  us  of  the  Wonder 
as  to  which  gentleman  had  the  honor  of  originating  the 
custom. 

I  dressed  myself  in  my  best  to  do  fitting  honor  to  the 
occasion,  and  punctually  as  the  clock  struck  six  rang  the 
bell  of  Mr.  Clarendon's  door,  on  Washington  Square.  A 
mulatto  gentleman,  with  a  dress-coat  rather  finer  than  my 
own,  ushered  me  into  the  drawing-room,  which  was  empty. 
Mr.  Clarendon,  however,  immediately  made  his  appearance 
and  received  me  with  great  heartiness  of  manner.  He  had 
entirely  put  off  his  official  fixity  of  face  and  abruptness  of 
speech,  and  I  hardly  knew  him  in  his  new  character  of  the 
amiable,  genial  host. 

"  We  shall  have  but  few  guests  to-day,"  he  said,  "  as  my 
family  leaves  for  Newport  next  week.  Mrs.  Clarendon  and 
my  niece  will  join  us  at  dinner,  and  there  will  be  another 
young  lady,  T  believe.  Mr.  Brandagee  and  yourself  are 
the  only  bachelors,  and  I  must  look  to  you  to  entertain 
them." 


JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  25? 

He  smiled  as  he  said  this,  and  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  smile 
and  say  something  polite  in  return ;  but  the  effort,  I  am 
afraid,  must  have  resulted  in  a  dismal  grin.  I  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  sit  down  and  entertain  a  young  lady  with  flip 
pant  and  elegant  nothings.  However,  there  was  already  a 
rustling  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  three  ladies 
advanced  towards  us.  First,  Mrs.  Clarendon,  a  ripe,  buxom 
blond  of  forty,  in  dark-blue  silk,  —  altogether  a  cheery 
apparition.  Then  the  niece,  Miss  Weldon,  tall,  slender, 
with  a  long  face,  high  forehead,  black  eyes,  and  smooth, 
dark  hair.  She  had  the  air  of  a  daughter,  which  I  presume 
she  was,  by  adoption.  Mr.  Clarendon  had  but  one  child, 
a  son,  who  was  then  at  Harvard.  Miss  "Weldon's  friend,  as 
I  judged  her  to  be,  was  a  Miss  Haworth  (I  think  that  was 
the  name  —  I  know  it  reminded  me  of  Mary  Chaworth),  a 
quiet  creature,  with  violet  eyes,  and  light  hair,  rippled  on 
the  temples.  Her  face  seemed  singularly  familiar  to  me, 
and  yet  I  knew  I  had  never  seen  her  before.  I  mutely 
bowed  to  both  the  young  ladies,  and  then  turned  to  answer 
a  remark  of  Mrs.  Clarendon,  inwardly  rejoicing  that  she 
had  saved  me  from  them. 

Mr.  Severn  presently  entered,  carrying  his  unhappy  face 
even  to  the  festive  board.  He  had  the  air  of  being,  as  he 

O' 

perhaps  was,  permanently  overworked,  and  was  afflicted 
with  the  habit,  which  he  exercised  unconsciously,  of  fre- 
quently putting  his  hand  on  his  side  and  heaving  a  deep 
sigh.  Yet  he  was  a  shrewd,  intelligent  fellow,  and,  although 
usually  a  languid,  hesitating  talker,  there  were  accidental 
moments  when  he  flashed  into  respectable  brilliancy.  After 
the  greetings  were  over,  I  was  glad  to  see  that  he  addressed 
himself  to  the  niece,  leaving  Mrs.  Clarendon  to  me. 

It  was  a  quarter  past  six,  and  Mr.  Clarendon  began  to 
show  signs  of  impatience.  "  Withering  stays,"  said  he  tc 
his  wife ;  "  as  for  Brandagee,  I  should  not  much  wonder  if 
he  had  forgotten  all  about  it  He  seems  to  have  the  run 
of  a  great  many  houses." 


260  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

A  violent  ringing  of  the  bell  followed  his  words,  and  thfl 
two  delinquents  entered  together.  I  already  knew  Mr. 
Withering,  and  felt  grateful  to  him  for  his  kindly  notice  of 
my  volume,  but  he  was  not  otherwise  attractive  to  me.  He 
was  a  man  of  thirty-six,  with  a  prematurely  dry,  solemn  air. 
He  wore  a  full,  dark-brown  beard,  and  his  thick  hair  was 
parted  in  the  middle,  so  as  to  hide  two  curious  knobs  on  his 
temples.  I  used  to  wonder  what  Miss  Hitchcock  would 
predict  from  those  organs:  I  was  sure  there  were  no 
bumps  of  the  kind  on  my  own  skull.  Perhaps  they  repre- 
sented the  critical  faculty,  for  Mr.  Withering  never  wrote 
anything  but  notices  of  books.  He  read  all  the  English 
reviews,  and  was  quite  a  cyclopaedia  of  certain  kinds  of 
information  ;  but,  somehow,  a  book,  in  passing  through  his 
alembic,  seemed  to  exhale  its  finer  aroma,  to  part  with  its 
succulent  juices,  and  become  more  or  less  mummified. 
Names,  at  the  sound  of  which  I  felt  inclined  to  bow  the 
knee,  raffed  from  his  tongue  as  dryly  as  salts  and  acids 
from  a  chemist's,  and  I  never  conversed  with  him  without 
feeling  that  my  imaginative  barometer  had  fallen  several 
degrees. 

Mr.  Brandagee  was  barely  known  to  me  by  name.  He 
was  the  author  of  several  dashing  musical  articles,  which 
had  been  published  in  the  Wonder,  during  the  opera  season, 
and  had  created  a  temporary  sensation.  Since  then  he  had 
assailed  Mr.  Bellows,  the  great  tragedian,  in  several  sketch- 
es characterized  rather  by  wit  and  impertinence  than  pro- 
found dramatic  criticism  :  but  everybody  read  and  enjoyed 
them  none  the  less.  He  was  said  to  be  the  scion  of  a  rich 
and  aristocratic  family  in  New-Haven,  had  passed  through 
college  with  high  honors,  and  afterwards  spent  several 
years  and  a  moderate  fortune  in  rambling  all  over  Europe 
and  the  East.  He  had  now  adopted  journalism,  it  was 
reported,  as  an  easy  mode  of  making  his  tastes  and  his 
talents  support  him  in  such  splendor  as  was  still  possible, 

He  made  his  salutations  with  a  jolly  self-possession  —  a 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  261 

noisy,  flashy  glitter  of  sentences  —  which  quite  threw  tht 
rest  of  us  into  the  shade.  The  ladies,  I  saw.  were  speciaiu 
interested  in  making  his  acquaintance.  When  dinner  was 
announced,  he  carried  off  Mrs.  Clarendon,  without  waiting 
for  the  host's  beckon  or  looking  behind  him.  Mr.  With- 
ering followed  with  Miss  Weldon,  and  then  Mr.  Clarendon 
offered  his  arm  to  Miss  Haworth.  Severn,  pressing  hi.s 
side,  and  heaving  profound  sighs,  brought  up  the  rear  with 
me.  I  hastened  to  take  the  unoccupied  seat  at  Mrs.  Clar- 
endon's left  hand,  though  it  did  not  properly  belong  to  me. 
The  lady  was  too  well-bred  even  to  look  her  dissatisfaction, 
and  Mr.  Withering  was  thus  interposed  between  me  and 
the  niece. 

My  share  of  the  entertainment  was  easily  performed. 
Mr.  Brandagee,  on  tne  opposite  side,  monopolized  the  con- 
versation from  the  start,  and  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  look 
and  listen,  in  the  intervals  of  the  dinner.  The  man's  face 
interested  me  profoundly.  It  was  not  handsome,  it  could 
hardly  be  called  intellectual,  it  was  very  irregular :  I  could 
almost  say  that  it  was  disagreeable,  and  yet,  it  was  so 
mobile,  it  ran  so  rapidly  through  striking  contrasts  of 
expression,  and  was  so  informed  with  a  restless,  dazzling 
life,  that  I  could  not  turn  my  eyes  away  from  it  His  fore- 
head was  sloping,  narrowing  rapidly  from  the  temples  down 
to  the  brows,  his  eyes  dark-gray  and  deeply  set,  and  his 
nose  very  long  and  straight,  the  nostrils  cut  back  sharply 
on  either  side,  like  the  barbs  of  an  arrow.  His  upper  lip 
was  very  short,  and  broken  in  from  the  line  of  his  profile, 
as  if  he  had  been  kicked  there  by  a  horse  when  a  child. 
It  was  covered  with  a  moustache  no  thicker  than  an  eye- 
brow, —  short,  stubby  hairs,  that  seemed  to  resist  growth, 
and  resembled,  at  a  little  distance,  a  coarse  black  powder. 
The  under  lip  and  chin,  on  the  contrary,  projected  consid- 
erably, and  the  latter  feature  terminated  in  a  goat-like  tuft 
of  hair.  His  cheeks  were  almost  bare  of  beard.  When 
he  spoke  slowly,  his  voice  seemed  to  catch  somewhere  in 


262  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

the  upper  jaw  and  be  diverted  through  his  nose,  but  as  h€ 
became  lively  and  spirited  in  conversation,  it  grew  clear 
and  shrill.  It  was  not  an  agreeable  voice  :  the  deep,  mel 
low  chest-notes  were  wanting. 

The  impression  he  made  upon  me  was  just  the  reverse 
of  what  I  had  felt  on  first  meeting  Penrose.  The  latter  re- 
pelled me,  in  spite  of  the  strong  attraction  of  his  beauty  , 
but  Mr.  Brandagee  repelled  me  in  every  feature,  yet  at  the 
same  time  drew  me  towards  him  with  a  singular  fascination. 
His  language  was  bold,  brilliant,  full  of  startling  paradoxes 
and  unexpected  grotesquenesses  of  fancy ;  withal,  he  was 
so  agile  and  adroit  of  fence  that  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  pin  him  except  by  weapons  similar  to  his  own.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  Mr.  Clarendon  at  once  admired  and 
disliked  him.  The  ladies,  however,  were  evidently  capti- 
vated by  his  brilliancy,  and  helped  him  to  monopolize  the 
attention  of  the  table. 

He  had  just  completed  a  very  witty  and  amusing  de- 
scription of  Alexandre  Dumas,  and  there  was  a  lull  in  the 
talk,  while  a  wonderful  mayonnaise  was  brought  upon  the 
table,  when  Miss  Weldon,  bending  around  Mr.  Withering, 
addressed  him  with,  — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Brandagee,  did  you  ever  hear  Rubini  ?  " 

"  I  did"  said  he.  "  Not  on  the  stage.  I  'm  hardly  old 
enough  for  that,  if  you  please.  But  when  I  was  living  in 
Turin,  I  called  one  evening  on  my  old  friend,  Silvio  Pel- 
lico,  and  found  him  dressed  to  go  out.  Now  I  knew  that 
he  lived  like  a  hermit,  —  I  had  never  seen  him  before  in 
swallow-tails,  —  so  I  started  back  and  said,  ' cos  e  ?  '  'To 
Count  Arrivamale's,'  says  he,  '  and  only  for  Hubini's  sake.' 
Will  Rubini  be  there  ?  '  I  yelled ;  '  hold  on  a  minute  ! '  I 
took  the  first  fiacre  I  could  find,  gave  the  fellow  five  lire 
extra,  galloped  home  and  jumped  into  my  conventionalities, 
snatched  up  Silvio,  and  off  we  drove  to  Arrivamale's  to- 
gether. True  enough,  Rubini  was  there,  old  and  well  pre- 
served, but  he  sang  —  and  I  heard  him  !  " 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  26S 

"  What  did  you  think  of  his  singing  ?  "  asked  the  de- 
lighted Miss  Weldon. 

"All  Jioriture.  The  voice  was  in  rags  and  tatters,  but 
the  method  was  there.  You  know  how  Benedetti  sings  the 
finale  of  Lucia  ?  —  lifting  up  his  fists  and  carrying  the  so*- 
tenuto  the  whole  breadth  of  the  stage  ;  —  well,  Rubini 
would  have  kept  it  dancing  up  and  down,  and  whirling 
round  and  round,  like  a  juggler  with  four  brass  balls  in  the 
air.  That  was  what  he  sang,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the 
bell'  alma  innamora-ha-ha-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-ah-ha-ha-ta  !  " 

There  was  a  general  shout  of  laughter  at  this  burlesque 
imitation  of  poor  Rubini,  which  Mr.  Brandagee  gave  in  a 
cracked  falsetto.  There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  his  accom- 
plishments. After  taking  a  fork-full  of  the  mayonnaise,  he 
turned  to  Mrs.  Clarendon  with  an  enthusiastic  face,  ex- 
claiming, "  Admirable  !  I  congratulate  you  on  your  cook  ; 
or  is  Mr.  Clarendon  himself  the  author  ?  It  is  a  part  of 
my  credo  that  the  composition  of  a  salad  requires  a  high 
order  of  intellect,  as  well  as  character,  tact,  and  the  instincts 
of  a  gentleman.  Horace,  Cervantes,  and  Shakspeare  would 
have  been  good  hands  at  it ;  St.  Paul  would  have  done  it 
splendidly ! " 

In  spite  of  what  had  gone  before,  I  was  startled  and 
shocked  at  this,  and  I  believe  Mrs.  Clarendon  did  not  like 
the  irreverence.  But  Mr.  Brandagee  rattled  on  without 
regarding  her,  — "  It  is  n't  modest  in  me  to  proclaim  my 
own  skill,  but,  then,  nobody  ever  accused  me  of  modesty. 
Modesty  is  an  inconvenient  article  for  gentlemen's  use.  I 
am  prouder  of  my  triumph  at  the  Trois  Freres  than  of  any- 
thing else  in  my  life.  There  were  only  three  of  us,  —  Paul 
de  Kock  and  poor  Alfred  de  Musset  When  we  c.une  to  the 
salad  I  saw  their  eyes  sparkle  ;  so  much  the  better  —  I  had 
planned  a  surprise.  So  I  picked  up  the  dish,  turned  it 
around,  smelled  it  suspiciously,  pulled  it  about  a  little  with 
a  fork,  and  then  said  to  the  garfon,  '  otez  fa!'  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  their  faces  ;  I  am  sure  De  Kocl 


264  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

ground  '  barbare  !  '  between  his  teeth.  But  I  promised  to 
give  them  a  substitute,  started  them  on  their  old,  everlast- 
ing dispute  about  the  battle  of  Zara,  —  one  maintained  that 
there  had  been  such  a  battle,  and  the  other  that  there  had 
n't,  —  got  the  ingredients  I  wanted,  and  set  to  work.  They 
were  hard  at  it,  throwing  Barbarossa  and  Dandolo,  and  1 
don't  know  who  else,  across  the  table  at  each  other's  heads, 
when  I  put  their  plates  before  them  and  said,  '  essayez  !  ' 
Each  of  them  made  a  grimace,  and  took  a  little  morsel 
with  an  air  of  suspicion.  When  they  had  fairly  tasted  it, 
they  looked  at  each  other  for  a  full  minute  without  saying 
a  word.  Then  De  Kock  drew  a  long  breath  and  cried  out, 
incroyable  !  '  and  De  Musset  answered,  '  enorme  !  '  We 
shook  hands  all  around,  with  tears  in  our  eyes,  and  always 
tutoyed  each  other  from  that  very  night.  Poor  De  Mus- 
set!" 

After  the  ladies  had  withdrawn,  cigars  were  brought  on 
the  table.  Mr.  Clarendon,  I  noticed,  did  not  smoke,  and  I 
thought  he  seemed  pleased  that  I  followed  his  example. 
Mr.  Severn  and  Mr.  Withering  puffed  their  cigars  deli- 
cately and  cautiously,  and  drew  nearer  to  their  chief,  while 
Mr.  Brandagee,  blowing  a  great  cloud,  poured  out  a  glass 
of  claret  and  then  pushed  the  decanter  across  to  me. 

"  They  are  talking  over  Wonder  matters,"  he  said,  taking 
Mrs.  Clarendon's  chair.  "  That  is  very  fair  Lafitte ;  try  it. 
But  I  prefer  Clos-Vougeot  after  dinner." 

I  took  a  glass  of  the  wine  rather  than  confess  my  igno 
ranee  of  the  proper  thing,  in  the  presence  of  such  an  au- 
thority. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  asked,  "  are  you  the  Mr.  Godfrey  who 
has  just  published  a  volume  of  poems  ?  I  read  Wither- 
ing's  notice  of  it ;  I  wish  you  would  send  me  a  copy." 

I  gratefully  promised  to  comply. 

"  I  think  we  all  begin  in  that  way.  I  published,  in  my 
senior  year,  'Alcibiades  at  Syracuse  ; '  —  don't  say  you  Ve 
heard  of  it,  because  I  know  you  have  n't  I  have  not  seen 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  2W 

the  thing  for  ten  years,  but  I  dare  say  it 's  insufferable 
trash.  Poetry  does  n't  pay.  Do  you  know  there  are  not 
six  poets  in  the  world  who  could  live  on  the  profits  of  their 
verses  ? " 

"But  it  is  not  money  alone,"  —  I  began,  and  then 
stopped,  seeing  the  ends  of  his  projecting  under-lip  curl 
around  the  ends  of  the  short  upper  one,  in  a  peculiar 
mocking  smile.  1  felt  instantly  how  green  and  senti 
mental  I  must  appear  in  his  experienced  eyes. 

"  I  know  all  you  were  going  to  say,"  he  remarked,  no- 
ticing my  silence.  "  I  was  tarred  with  the  same  brush,  ages 
ago.  It  's  pretty  well  scrubbed  out  of  me,  but  I  recognize 
the  smell.  You  believe  in  fame,  in  a  sort  of  profane  com- 
ing-down of  the  fiery  tongues,  don't  you  ?  You  've  been 
anointed,  and  shampooed,  and  brushed,  and  combed  by 
some  barber-Apollo,  for  an  elegant '  mission,'  have  n't  you  ? 
And  the  unwashed  and  uncombed  multitude  will  turn  up 
their  noses  and  scent  you  afar  off,  and  say  to  each  other, 
'  Let  us  stand  aside  that  The  Poet  may  pass  ! ' " 

I  was  too  dazzled  by  the  grotesque  fancy  of  the  image  to 
feel  much  hurt  by  its  irony.  On  the  contrary,  I  was  curi- 
ous to  know  what  a  man,  whose  youth,  he  confessed,  had 
known  dreams  similar  to  mine,  now  thought  of  Literature 
and  of  Life,  after  such  a  large  experience  of  both.  I 
therefore  laughed,  and  said,  "  I  don't  expect  any  such  rec- 
ognition as  that ;  —  but  is  it  not  better  to  have  some  faith 
in  the  work  you  undertake  ?  Could  any  one  be  a  good  poet 
who  despised  his  mission,  instead  of  believing  in  it  ?  " 

"  The  greatest  poet  of  this  generation,"  he  said,  "  is 
Heine,  who  is  n't  afraid  to  satirize  himself,  —  who  treats  his 
poetic  faculty  very  much  as  Swift  treated  Celia.  The  mis- 
sion, and  the  anointing,  and  all  that,  are  pleasant  supersti- 
tions, I  admit ;  but  one  can't  live  in  the  world  and  hold  on 
to  them.  The  man  who  is  n't  afraid  to  look  at  the  naked 
truth,  under  all  this  surface  flummery,  is  the  master.  You 
believe,  I  suppose,  that  all  men  are  naturally  kind,  and 


266  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

good,  and  honest,  —  that  politicians  are  pure  patriots,  and 
clergymen  are  saints,  and  merchants  never  take  advantage 
of  each  other's  necessities,  —  that  all  married  couples  love 
each  other,  and  all  young  lovers  will  be  true  till  death  "  — 

I  could  not  bear  this.  My  blood  was  up,  and  I  inter- 
rupted him  with  a  passionate  earnestness  which  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  cold-blooded,  negligent  cynicism  of  his 
manner. 

"  I  am  not  quite  such  a  fool  as  that,"  I  said.  "  1  believe 
(hat  men,  and  women  too,  are  naturally  selfish  and  bad.  I 
have  no  particular  respect  for  them ;  and  if  I  should  desire 
fame,  it  would  only  be  for  the  sake  of  making  them  respect 
me." 

He  looked  at  me  more  attentively  than  before,  and  I  felt 
that  his  keen  gray  eyes  were  beginning  to  spy  out  my  se- 
cret wound.  I  took  another  sip  of  the  claret,  in  the  hope 
of  turning  aside  his  scrutiny.  This  movement,  also,  he 
seemed  to  understand,  but  could  not  resist  imitating  it.  He 
filled  his  glass,  emptied  it,  and  then  turned  to  me  with,  — 

"  So,  you  would  like  to  be  respected  by  those  for  whom 
you  have  no  respect.  What  satisfaction  is  there  in  that  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  I  know,"  I  answered ;  "  but  if  they  honored 
me  for  saying  what  I  feel  to  be  true  and  good,  I  should 
think  better  of  them." 

"  Ho,  ho !  That 's  it,  is  it  ?  Your  logic  is  equal  to  the 
puzzle  of  Epimenides  and  the  Cretans.  You  despise  men ; 
therefore  they  respect  you ;  therefore  you  respect  them. 
I  should  n't  wonder  if  you  had  gone  through  the  converse 
experience,  to  arrive  at  such  a  conclusion." 

I  was  quite  bewildered  by  his  rapid,  flashy  sentences,  and 
knew  not  how  to  reply.  Besides,  I  saw  how  keenly  ht 
tracked  my  expressions  back  to  their  source  in  my  life,  and 
made  a  feeble  effort  to  throw  him  off  the  scent. 

"  Then  you  don't  think  a  literary  reputation  is  worth 
having?"  I  said. 

"  By  all  means ;  it  is  positive  capital,  in  a  certain  waj 


JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  267 

It  makes  publishers  indorse  your  promissory  notes,  opens 
the  doors  of  theatres  and  opera-houses  to  you,  supplies  you 
with  dinners  without  end,  gives  you  the  best  rooms  in  ho- 
tels, —  sometimes  complimentary  passes  on  steamboats  and 
railways;  in  the  words  of  the  pious,  smooths  the  asperi- 
ties of  this  life,  and  does  you  no  harm  in  the  world  beyond 
the  grave.  I  should  n't  in  the  least  object  to  those  advan- 
tages. But  if  only  the  school-gijls  weep  over  my  pages, 
and  pencil  the  words  '  sweet ! '  and  '  beautiful ! '  on  the  mar- 
gin, their  tears  and  their  remarks  won't  butter  my  bread. 
I  'd  rather  sit  on  velvet,  like  Reynolds  the  Great,  propped 
up  by  forty-seven  flash  romances,  than  starve,  like  Burns, 
and  have  the  pilgrims  come  to  kneel  on  my  bones.  Fame  's 
a  great  humbug.  '  Who  hath  it  ?  —  he  that  died  o'  Wednes 
day ! ' " 

I  was  not  prepared  to  disagree  with  him.  His  words 
gave  direction  to  the  reflux  of  my  feelings  from  their  warm, 
trusting  outflow.  I  acknowledged  the  authority  which  his 
great  knowledge  of  life  conferred  ;  and  though  his  hard, 
mocking  tone  still  affected  me  unpleasantly,  I  was  desirous 
to  hear  more  of  views  which  might  one  day  be  my  own. 

"  Then  there  is  no  use  in  having  any  ambition  ?  "  I  re- 
marked. 

"  Cela  depend.  If  a  man  feels  the  better  for  it,  let  him 
have  it.  Theophile  Gautier  used  to  say,  there  are  but  three 
divinities  —  Youth,  Wealth,  and  Beauty.  Substitute  Health 
for  Beauty,  and  I  agree  with  him.  I  have  no  beauty ;  — 
I  'm  as  ugly  as  sin,  but  I  don't  find  that  it  makes  any  differ- 
ence, either  with  women  or  men.  Give  me  health  and 
wealth,  and  I  '11  be  as  handsome  as  the  Antinous.  One 
must  get  old  some  day  ;  but  even  then,  what  is  given  to 
youth  can  be  bought  for  age.  Hallo  !  the  Lafitte  is  out. 
Stretch  down  your  arm  and  get  the  other  decanter.  Severn 
won't  miss  it." 

I  did  as  he  requested,  and  Mr.  Clarendon,  noticing  the 
movement,  got  up  and  took  a  seat  near  me.  "  Brandagee,' 


268  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

he  said,  "  I  hope  you  have  not  been  putting  any  mischiof 
into  Godfrey's  head." 

"  I  have  none  to  spare,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  keeping  it 
bottled  up  for  my  article  on  Mrs.  Pudge  in  Ophelia.  By- 
the-by,  it 's  nine  o'clock.  I  must  go  down  to  Niblo's  to  see 
her  once  more  in  the  mad  scene.  These  are  capital  Figa- 
ros, Mr.  Clarendon.  I  '11  take  another,  to  give  me  a  start 
on  the  article." 

He  took  six,  went  into  the  drawing-room  to  take  leave 
of  the  ladies,  and  departed. 

"  A  brilliant  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Clarendon,  "  but  spoiled 
by  over-praise  when  young,  and  indulgence  abroad." 

"  He  's  good  company,  though,"  said  Severn. 

As  for  myself,  I  found  myself  mentally  repeating  his 
words,  on  the  way  home.  Youth,  health,  and  wealth  —  was 
he  not  right  ?  What  else  was  there  to  be  enjoyed,  —  at 
least  for  me  ? 


JOHN   GODFREYS   FORTUNES.  26S 


CHAPTER  XXL 

EN    WHICH    I    ATTEND    MRS.    YORKTON'S   RECEPTION. 

A  FKW  days  after  the  dinner,  Mr.  Brandagee,  being  it 
the  Wonder  office  to  read  the  proof  of  his  article  on  Mrs. 
Pudge,  came  to  my  desk  and  entered  into  conversation.  I 
had  just  completed  my  graphic  description  of  the  fall, 
death,  and  removal  of  an  omnibus-horse  on  the  slipper)' 
pavement  of  Broadway  (an  item  afterwards  copied  in  all 
the  country  papers),  and  had  half  an  hour  to  spare,  in  the 
course  of  which  time  quite  a  pleasant  familiarity  was  estab- 
lished between  us.  He  had  looked  over  my  book,  which 
he  pronounced  better  than  "  Alcibiades  at  Syracuse,"  to  the 
best  of  his  recollection.  As  he  was  leaving,  he  said, — 

"  Do  you  go  to  Mrs.  Yorkton's  on  Friday  evening  ?  " 

«  Mrs.  Yorkton  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  the  poetess.  Though  she  mostly  writes  under 
the  signature  of  *  Adeliza  Choate.'  " 

Was  it  possible  ?  Adeliza  Choate,  —  the  rival  of  my 
boyish  ambition,  —  the  sister  of  my  first  poetic  dreams  !  I 
had  always  imagined  her  as  a  lovely,  dark-eyed  girl,  with 
willowy  tresses  and  a  lofty  brow.  And  she  was  Mrs.  York- 
ton,  —  married,  and  giving  receptions  on  Friday  evenings ! 
That  fact  seemed  to  bring  her  down  to  common  earth,  —  to 
obscure  the  romantic  nimbus  in  which  my  fancy  had  envel- 
oped her  form ;  yet  I  none  the  less  experienced  a  violent 
desire  to  see  her. 

"  Oh  ! "  I  exclaimed,  "  I  have  read  her  poems,  but  I  dc 
not  know  her  personally.  I  should  very  much  like  to  go." 

"  Nothing  easier  :  I  '11  tako  you.     Friday  night,  remera- 


<?70  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

her.  She  lives  in  Fourth  Street,  and  you  may  as  well  call 
at  the  Smithsonian  for  me.  Come  early.  I  had  a  note 
from  her  this  morning,  and  she  wants  me  to  be  there  b\ 
eight  o'clock,  to  assist  her  in  some  deuce  of  a  mysterious 
arrangement.  She  always  gets  up  some  sentimental  clap- 
trap or  other  — '  to  start  conversation  in  intellectual  chan- 
nels,' she  says.  You  Ml  find  all  the  literary  small  fry  on 
hand,  —  Smithers,  Danforth,  Clara  Collady,  and  the  like. 
You  need  n't  dress  particularly,  —  it 's  quite  Bohemian. 
Smithers  always  wears  a  scarlet  cravat,  and  an  old  black 
velvet  coat,  with  half  the  buttons  off." 

This  information  was  rather  attractive  than  otherwise. 
It  denoted  a  proper  scorn  of  conventionalities,  which  I  had 
always  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  attributes  of  genius.  A 
side-door,  at  least,  was  now  opened  for  me  into  the  en- 
chanted circle  which  I  so  longed  to  enter.  The  antici- 
pation of  the  event  diverted  my  mind  from  its  gloomy 
apathy,  and  helped  me  along  more  swiftly  through  the 
weary  days. 

Fortunately,  when  the  evening  arrived,  there  was  no 
moral,  charitable,  political,  or  religious  meeting  to  report,  — 
no  pyrotechnic  display  or  torch-light  procession  to  describe, 
—  and  I  could  venture  to  be  absent  from  the  office  until 
midnight,  at  which  time  I  was  obliged  to  revise  the  fires 
and  accidents.  Notwithstanding  Mr.  Brandagee's  hint  as  to 
costume,  I  put  on  my  evening  dress,  and  sprinkled  my 
handkerchief  with  jockey-club.  Reaching  the  Smithsonian 
at  half-past  seven,  I  found  my  chaperon  in  his  room  on  the 
third  story,  reading  a  volume  of  Balzac,  with  his  feet  on  a 
chair  and  a  mint-julep  at  his  elbow. 

"  By  Jove,  I  forgot ! "  he  exclaimed,  jumping  up.  "  Damn 
Adeliza  Choate  and  the  whole  tribe  !  I  'd  ten  thousand 
times  rather  go  on  with  La  Peau  de  Chagrin,  But  it  won't 
do  to  have  you  get  out  of  your  bandbox  for  nothing,  God 
frey.  Whew !  You  have  come  from  Araby  the  Blest,  — 
will  you  let  me  '  pursue  your  triumph  and  partake  yom 


JOHN  GODFREYS   FORTUNES.  271 

gale  ? '     Adeliza  will  have  a  sonnet '  To  J.  G.'  in  the  nexl 
'  Hesperian,'  commencing,  — 

'  On  thine  ambrosial  locks  my  heart  reclines.'  " 

But  he  changed  his  coat  and  brushed  his  black  hail 
while  talking,  and  we  set  out  for  the  eastern  part  of  Fourth 
Street.  The  Yorkton  Mecca  was  a  low  and  somewhat  an- 
cient brick  house,  with  a  green  door  and  window-blinds*. 
Heavy,  badly  smelling  ailanthus-trees  in  front  conveniently 
obscured  the  livery-stable  and  engine-house  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  and  as  there  happened  to  be  no  fires  sit 
the  time,  and  no  carriages  in  requisition,  the  place  had  a 
quiet,  contemplative  air.  The  bell  was  answered  by  a  small 
mulatto-boy,  whose  white  jacket  and  trousers  were  orna- 
mented with  broad  red  stripes  down  the  arms  and  legs, 
giving  him  the  air  of  a  little  yellow  harlequin. 

He  grinned  on  seeing  Mr.  Brandagee,  said,  "  She  's  in 
the  parlor,"  and  threw  open  the  door  thereto. 

Only  one  gas-burner  was  yet  lighted,  but,  as  the  rooms 
were  small,  I  could  very  well  observe  the  light-blue  figure 
which  advanced  to  meet  us.  Heavens  and  earth  !  where 
was  the  lovely  creature  with  dark  eyes  and  willowy  tresses  ? 
I  saw,  to  my  unutterable  surprise,  a  woman  of  forty-five, 
tall,  lean,  with  a  multitude  of  puckers  about  her  yellowish- 
gray  eyes,  and  long  thin  lips.  On  her  faded  brown  hair 
she  wore  a  wreath  of  blue  flowers.  Her  nose  was  aquiline, 
and  her  neck  seemed  to  throw  out  strong  roots  in  the  di- 
rection of  her  shoulders.  As  I  looked  at  the  back  of  it, 
afterwards,  I  could  not  help  thinking  I  saw  a  garland  of 
forget-me-nots  laid  on  the  dry,  mossy  stump  of  a  sapling. 

"  Faithful  friend  !  Fidus  Achates  !  "  (which  she  pro 
uounced  Akkatees^)  she  exclaimed,  holding  out  both  hands 
to  Brandagee.  "  You  are  just  in  time.  Adonis,"  (this  to 
the  striped  mulatto-boy,)  "  light  the  other  burners  ! " 

••  You  know  you  can  always  depend  upon  me,  Adeliza. " 
Brandagee  replied,  with  a  side-wink  to  me  ;  "  I  conside.' 


272  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

myself  as  your  jidibus.  Let  me  present  to  you  my  friend 
Mr.  Godfrey,  whose  name  is  familiar  to  you,  no  doubt,  as 
one  of  our  dawning  bards,  — '  Leonora's  Dream,  and  Other 
Poems.' " 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  This  is  an  unexpected  acquisition  to 
our  circle  of  choice  spirits.  Mr.  Godfrey  !  I  am  delighted 
to  make  your  acquaintance.  I  have  long  known  and  ad- 
mired your  poetical  self:  we  are  fellow-Hesperians,  you 
know." 

Though  I  was  so  confounded  by  the  reality  of  Adeliza's 
appearance,  I  could  not  help  being  flattered  by  the  warmth 
of  her  reception.  I  glowed  with  gratified  vanity,  as  I  took 
her  offered  hand,  and  said  I  was  very  happy  to  meet  Miss 
Choate,  whose  poems  I  had  read  with  so  much  pleasure. 

Brandagee  burst  into  a  laugh  at  my  blunder,  which  I 
also  perceived,  the  moment  after  it  was  uttered.  Much 
embarrassed,  I  stammered  some  awkward  words  of  apology. 

Mrs.  Yorkton,  however,  was  rather  pleased  than  offended. 

"  No  apology  is  necessary,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  she  said :  "  I 
am  quite  as  accustomed  to  my  poetic  as  to  my  prosaic 
name.  I  adopted  the  former  when  I  first  began  to  write, 
on  account  of  the  prejudice  which  The  Herd  manifests 
when  a  woman's  hand  dares  to  sweep  the  strings  of  the 
Delphic  lyre.  But  the  secret  was  soon  discovered  by  those 
friends  who  knew  my  Inner  Self,  and  they  still  like  to  ad- 
dress me  by  what  they  call  my  '  Parnassian  name.' " 

By  this  time  the  remaining  burners  had  been  lighted, 
and  all  the  features  of  this  bower  of  the  Muses  were  re 
vealed  to  view.  The  furniture  was  well-worn,  and  had  ap 
parently  been  picked  up  piece  by  piece,  without  regard  to 
the  general  harmony.  Over  the  front  mantelpiece  hung 
a  portrait  in  crayons  of  the  hostess,  with  a  pen  in  her  hand, 
and  her  eyes  uplifted.  On  a  small  table  between  the  win- 
dows stood  a  large  plaster  bust  of  Virgil,  with  a  fresh  wreath 
of  periwinkle  (plucked  from  the  back-yard)  upon  its  head 
On  the  two  centre-tables  were  laid  volumes  of  poetry,  and 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  27S 

some  annuals,  bound  in  blue  and  scarlet  cloth.  The  most 
remarkable  feature  of  the  room,  however,  was  a  series  of 
four  oblong  black-boards,  suspended  like  picture-frames  on 
the  walls,  each  one  bordered  with  a  garland  of  green  leaves. 
Upon  two  of  these  there  were  sentences  written  with  chalk  ; 
the  other  two  were  still  empty. 

u  There,  Mr.  Brandagee  ! "  she  exclaimed,  waving  her  thin 
arm  with  an  air  of  triumph  ;  "  that  is  my  idea  for  to-night. 
Don't  you  think  it  suggestive  ?  Instead  of  pictures,  a  preg- 
nant sentence  on  each  of  these  dark  tablets.  It  seems  to 
symbolize  Thought  starting  out  in  white  light  from  the  mid- 
night of  Ignorance.  Words  give  mental  pictures,  you  know, 
and  I  want  to  have  these  filled  up  by  distinguished  masters. 
Come,  and  I  '11  show  you  what  I  have  done  ! " 

She  led  the  way  to  the  farthest  black-board,  stationed 
herself  before  it,  with  Brandagee  on  one  side  and  myself 
on  the  other,  and  resumed  her  explanation.  "  This  /  have 
written,"  she  said,  "  not  because  I  could  not  find  any  sen- 
tence adapted  to  the  purpose,  but  because  my  friends  seem 
to  expect  that  I  should  always  offer  them  some  intellectual 
food.  '•Congenial  Spirits  Move  in  Harmonious  Orbits?  — 
how  do  you  like  it?  There  must  be  a  great  deal  of  mean- 
ing compressed  into  a  very  few  words,  you  know,  —  oracular, 
suggesting  various  things.  Now,  I  want  to  have  the  same 
thought,-  or  a  kindred  one,  in  other  languages,  on  the  other 
boards.  The  next,  you  see,  is  French,  but  I  can't  go  any 
further  without  your  help.  What  do  you  think  of  this  ?  " 

UiLes  beaux  esprits  se  rencontrent' "  read  Brandagee. 
"  Very  appropriate,  indeed  !  Not  only  abstractly  true,  but 
complimentary  to  your  guests.  And  you  want  the  same 
thing  in  other  languages,  —  what  languages  ?  " 

"  One  must  be  German,  of  course,"  said  she.  "  Can't 
you  remember  something  from  Schiller,  or  Goeethy,  or 
Rikter?" 

"  I  ha"e  it !  Give  me  the  chalk.  Your  own  Orphic  ut- 
terance reproduced  in  the  immortal  words  of  Goethe !  Did 
18 


274  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

you  know  it  ?  —  the  finest  line  in  '  Faust ' ;  —  what  a  singu 
lar  coincidence  of  genius  ?  " 

Taking  the  chalk  from  the  ready  hand  of  the  delighted 
Mrs.  Yorkton,  Brandagee  wrote  on  the  third  black-board 
"  Gleiches  gesellt  sick  gem  mit  Gleichem  !  "  I  understood  the 
words,  and  was  a  little  at  a  loss  to  account  for  his  enthusiasm 
about  them. 

"  Now  for  the  last !  "  said  he.  "  It  must  be  Italian,  Span- 
ish, Swedish,  or  Dutch.  I  might  take  a  line  from  Dante,  — • 
'  Lasciate  ogni  speranzaj  and  so  forth,  but  that  would  be 
too  palpable  to  some  of  the  beaux  esprits.  You  want  some- 
thing more  vague  and  mystical.  Who  is  there,  —  Tegner. 
Calderon,  Lope  de  Vega  ?  —  Calderon  is  best,  and  now  I  re- 
call the  very  sentence  for  you.  There  it  is,  white  on  black  . 
'  Coda  oveja  ha  sin pareja'  " 

"  It  has  a  lovely  sound,"  she  murmured ;  "  what  is  the 
meaning  ?  " 

"  Something  like  this,"  he  answered ;  " '  No  gentle  creat- 
ure is  condemned  to  solitude,'  "  —  but  he  afterwards  whis- 
pered to  me  that  the  sentence  actually  read :  "  Every  sheep 
has  its  fellow." 

Mrs.  Yorkton  grasped  his  hands  with  gratitude,  and  twice 
made  the  circuit  of  the  rooms  to  inspect,  with  radiant  sat- 
isfaction, her  suggestive  mental  pictures.  Then,  as  Bran- 
dagee had  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  was  tossing  over 
the  leaves  of  the  annuals,  she  invited  me  to  take  a  seat  be- 
side her  on  the  sofa. 

"  Tell  me  now,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  said  she,  "  what  is  your 
usual  process  of  composition  ?  I  don't  mean  the  fine  frenzy, 
because  all  poets  must  have  that,  of  course ;  but  how  do 
you  write,  and  when  do  you  find  the  combination  of  influ- 
ences most  favorable  ?  It  is  a  subject  which  interests  me 
greatly ;  my  ovn  temperament  is  so  peculiar.  Indeed, 
I  have  found  no  one  upon  whom  the  Inspiration  seizes 
with  such  power.  Does  it  visit  you  in  the  garish  light 
of  day,  or  only  awake  beneath  the  stars  ?  Must  you 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  275 

wear  a  loose  dressing-gown,  like  Mr.  Danforth,  or  is  your 
Muse  not  impeded  by  the  restraints  of  dress  ? " 

I  scarcely  knew  what  answer  to  make  to  these  questions. 
In  fact,  I  began  strongly  to  suspect  that  I  was  no  poet. 
I  had  never  supposed  that  any  particular  time  or  costume 
was  required  for  the  exercise  of  the  faculty,  —  had  never 
thought  of  instituting  a  series  of  observations  upon  myself, 
for  the  purpose  of  determining  what  conditions  were  most 
favorable. 

"  I  am  really  unable  to  say,"  I  answered.  "  I  have  always 
been  in  the  habit  of  writing  whenever  I  felt  that  I  had  a 
good  subject,  whether  by  day  or  night." 

"  How  fortunate  !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  how  I  envy  you ! 
Your  physique  enables  you  to  do  it ;  but  with  my  sensitive 
frame,  it  would  be  impossible.  I  feel  the  approach  of  In- 
spiration in  every  nerve;  —  my  husband  often  tells  me 
that  he  knows  beforehand  when  I  am  going  to  write,  my 
eyes  shine  so.  Then  I  go  up-stairs  to  my  study,  which  is 
next  to  my  bedroom.  It  always  comes  on  about  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  wind  blows  from  the 
south.  I  change  my  dress,  and  put  on  a  long  white  gown, 
which  I  wear  at  no  other  time,  take  off  my  stays,  and  let 
my  hair  down  my  back.  Then  I  prance  up  and  down  the 
room  as  if  I  was  possessed,  and  as  the  lines  come  to  me 
I  dash  them  on  the  black-board,  one  after  another,  and  chant 
them  in  a  loud  voice.  Sometimes  I  cover  all  four  of  the 
boards  —  both  sides  —  before  the  Inspiration  leaves  me. 
The  frail  Uody  is  overcome  by  the  excitement  of  the  Soul, 
and  at  night  my  husband  often  finds  me  lying  on  the  floor 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  panting  —  panting !  " 

She  gave  this  information  in  so  wild  and  excited  a  man- 
-er,  flapping  her  hands  up  and  down  before  her  to  illus 
trate  the  operation  of  prancing,  hurling  forth  one  arm,  and 
making  a  convulsive,  tremulous  line  in  the  air  with  her 
closed  fingers  when  she  came  to  dashing  the  words  on  the 
black-board,  and  panting  so  very  literally  at  the  close,  that 


276  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

I  began  to  be  alarmed  lest  the  Inspiration  was  approaching. 
I  looked  at  her  head,  and  was  reassured  on  finding  that  the 
forget-rne-nots  still  crowned  it,  and  that  her  hair  was  not 
coming  down  behind. 

"  I  should  think  it  must  be  very  exhausting,"  I  ventured 
to  remark. 

"  Killing !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  energy.  "  I  am  obliged 
to  take  restoratives  and  stimulants,  after  one  of  these  visits 
It  would  n't  be  safe  for  me  to  have  a  penknife  in  the  room, 
—  or  a  pair  of  scissors,  —  or  a  sharp  paper-cutter,  —  while 
the  frenzy  is  on  me.  I  might  injure  myself  before  I  knew 
it.  But  it  would  be  a  sweet,  a  fitting  death.  If  it  ever 
comes,  Mr.  Godfrey,  you  must  write  my  thanatopsis ! " 

Here  Brandagee,  sitting  at  the  table  with  his  back  to  us, 
startled  us  by  bursting  into  the  most  violent  laughter.  Mrs. 
Yorkton  evidently  did  not  find  the  interruption  agreeable. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  stiff  voice. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  these  things  of  Mrs.  Mallard.  I  have 
just  been  turning  over  the  '  Female  Poets.'  The  editor 
has  given  her  ten  pages.  I  wonder  what  she  paid  him ; 
there  must  have  been  an  equivalent." 

"  Ten  pages,  indeed ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Yorkton,  with 
bitterness,  "  and  barely  three  for  me !  That  is  the  way 
literature  is  encouraged.  How  anybody  can  find  the  traces 
of  Inspiration  in  Mrs.  Mallard's  machinery  —  I  won't  call 
it  poetry  —  I  cannot  comprehend.  I  am  told,  Mr.  Bran- 
dagee, that  she  has  become  very  spiteful,  since  my  recep 
tions  have  made  a  noise  in  the  literary  world." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it  Detraction  and  Envy  are  the  inevi- 
table attendants  of  Genius.  But  the  Eagle  should  not  be 
annoyed  at  the  hostile  gyrations  of  the  Vulture." 

"  What  grand  dashes  of  thought  you  strike  out !  "  she 
cried,  in  an  excess  of  delight  and  admiration.  "  That  imago 
would  close  a  sonnet  so  finely.  If  it  should  return  to  my 
mind,  hereafter,  in  some  Inspired  Moment,  you  will  knoff 
whose  hand  planted  the  Seeds  of  Song." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  277 

"  You  don't  know  what  a  poet  I  am  !  "  he  said,  in  hig 
mocking  way.  "  If  I  dared  to  write.  Dr.  Brown-Sequara 
said  to  me  one  day,  in  Paris,  when  he  was  attending  me 
for  the  rupture  of  a  blood-vessel,  caused  by  writing  a  poem 
on  hearing  a  nightingale  singing  in  Rue  Notre  Dame  de 
Lorette,  —  said  he,  '  Brandagee,  my  boy,  avoid  these  exal- 
tations, if  you  don't  want  to  bring  up  at  Pere  la  Chaise  or 
Charenton.  Your  nature  is  over-balanced  :  you  must  drop 
the  spiritual  and  cultivate  the  animal.'  It  was  a  hard  sen- 
tence :  but  I  wanted  to  live,  and  I  was  forced  to  obey." 

lie  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  which  was  echoed,  in  all  serious- 
ness, by  Mrs.  Yorkton.  I  admired  the  amazing  command 
of  face  and  manner,  which  enabled  him  to  perpetrate  such 
barefaced  irony,  without  exciting  her  suspicion.  It  was 
evident  that  she  both  believed  and  admired  him. 

The  arrival  of  guests  interrupted  the  conversation.  Two 
gentlemen  and  a  lady  entered  the  room.  I  recognized 
Mr.  Smithers  at  once,  by  the  scarlet  cravat  and  velvet 
poat;  the  others,  as  Mrs.  Yorkton  whispered  before  pre- 
senting me,  were  "  appreciative  sympathizers,  not  authors." 
The  black-board  answered  their  purpose  by  furnishing 
immediate  subjects  for  talk,  and  I  got  on  very  well  with 
the  appreciative  sympathizers.  Presently  Mr.  Danforth 
arrived,  escorting  Clara  Collady,  and  followed  by  Mr.  Blue- 
bit,  a  sculptor,  and  Mr.  S.  Mears,  a  painter.  Brandagee 
persisted  in  calling  the  latter  "  Smears."  1  looked  curiousl) 
at  the  gentleman  who  could  only  write  in  a  loose  dressing 
gown,  and  found  the  peculiarity  intelligible,  supposing  he 
usually  went  as  tightly  clad  as  at  present  His  coat  was 
buttoned  so  that  there  were  horizontal  creases  around  the 
waist,  and  the  seams  were  almost  starting,  and  it  seemed 
impossible  for  him  to  bend  forward  his  head  without  hav- 
ing respiration  suspended  by  his  cravat  Whenever  he 
nodded  in  conversation,  his  whole  body,  from  the  hips 
upward,  shared  the  movement 

Clara  Collady  was  a  dumpy  person  of  twenty-eight  GJ 


278  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FOfJUNES. 

fhirty,  with  a  cheerful  face  and  lively  little  black  eyes 
I  sought  an  introduction  to  her,  and  soon  found  that  we 
were  mutually  ignorant  of  each  other's  works.  I  was  sur- 
prised to  learn  that  her  name  was  genuine  and  not  •'  Par- 
nassian." She  was  disposed  to  enjoy  the  society  without 
criticizing  its  separate  members,  or  suspecting  any  of  them 
of  the  crime  of  overlooking  her  own  literary  importance. 

"  I  like  to  come  here,"  she  said.  "  It  rests  and  refreshes 
me,  after  a  week  in  the  school-room.  Mrs.  Yorkton  is 
sometimes  a  little  too  anxious  to  show  people  off,  which  I 
think  is  unnecessary.  They  are  always  ready  enough  to 
do  it  without  instigation.  But  it  is  very  pleasant  to  say 
and  do  what  you  please,  and  I  find  that  I  generally  learn 
something.  I  could  n't  aspire  to  the  higher  literary  circles, 
you  know." 

Loud  talking,  near  at  hand,  drew  my  attention.  It  was 
Smithers  engaged  in  a  discussion  with  S.  Mears. 

"  Classical  subjects  are  dead  —  obsolete  —  antediluvi- 
an ! "  cried  the  former.  '"  Take  the  fireman,  in  his  red 
lannel  shirt  with  the  sleeves  rolled  up  to  his  shoulders.  — 
the  clam-fisher,  bare-legged  on  the  sea-shore,  —  the  wood- 
chopper,  —  the  street-sweeper :  where  will  you  find  any- 
thing more  heroic  ?  " 

"  Very  good  for  genre"  said  S.  Mears,  "  but  you  would  n't 
call  it  High  Art?" 

"  It 's  the  Highest,  sir  !  Form  and  Action,  in  their  grand 
primitive  sublimity !  That 's  the  mistake  you  painters 
make  :  you  go  on  forever  painting  leather-faced  Jeromes, 
and  Magdalens  with  tallow  bosoms,  instead  of  turning  to 

O  O 

Life  !  Life  's  the  thing !  A  strong-backed  'long-shore-mun, 
with  his  hairy  and  sunburnt  arms,  and  the  tobacco-juice 
in  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  is  worth  all  your  saints ! " 

"  Very  well,"  said  S.  Mears :  "'  will  you  let  me  paint 
yourself,  with  vine-leaves  in  your  hair,  and  only  a  bit  of 
goat-skin  around  your  loins  ?  I  '11  call  it  Silenus.  You  '11 
have  your  '  Life.'  and  I  'II  have  my  classic  subject" 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  279 

Mr.  Smithers  was  evidently  getting  angry,  and  would 
have  hotly  retorted,  but  for  the  interposition  of  Mr.  Blue- 
bit,  who  took  an  arm  of  each  and  shook  them  good- 
humoredly,  saying,  "  Congenial  spirits  move  in  harmoni- 
ous orbits."  Brandagee,  also,  had  been  attracted  by  the 
voices,  and  joined  the  group.  The  other  three  gentlemen,, 
I  noticed,  treated  him  with  a  cautious  deference,  as  if  they 
had  been  pricked  by  his  tongue  and  did  not  wish  to  repeat 
the  sensation. 

Other  guests  dropped  in,  by  ones  and  twos,  until  the 
small  apartments  were  well  filled,  and  the  various  little 
centres  of  animated  talk  blended  in  an  incessant  and  not 
very  harmonious  noise.  Mrs.  Yorkton  seemed  to  consider 
me  as  an  acquisition  to  her  circle,  —  probably  because  it 
embraced  more  ;'  appreciative  sympathizers  "  than  authors, 
—  and  insisted  on  presenting  me  to  everybody,  as  "  one  of 
our  dawning  bards."  The  kindly  cordiality  with  which  I 
was  received  awoke  my  benumbed  ambition,  and  cheated 
me  into  the  belief  that  I  had  already  achieved  an  enviable 
renown. 

While  I  was  talking  to  a  very  hirsute  gentleman,  —  Mr. 
Ponder,  who  wrote  short  philosophical  essays  for  "  The 
Hesperian,"  —  I  heard  a  familiar  female  voice  behind  me. 
Turning  around,  I  beheld  the  nose,  the  piercing  Oriental 
eyes,  and  the  narrow  streak  of  a  forehead  of  Miss  Levi, 
whom  I  had  not  seen  since  Winch's  reconciliation  ball. 
She  was  dressed  in  a  dark  maroon-colored  silk,  and  the 
word  "  Titianesque  ! "  which  I  heard  S.  Mears  address  to 
his  friend  Bluebit,  must  have  been  spoken  of  her.  Among 
so  many  new  faces  she  impressed  me  like  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, and  I  bowed  familiarly  as  soon  as  I  caught  her  eye. 
To  my  surprise,  she  returned  the  salutation  with  an  uncer- 
tain air,  in  which  there  was  but  half-recognition. 

"  How  have  you  been,  since  we  met  at  Mr.  Winch's  ?  " 
T  asked,  taking  a  vacant  seat  beside  her. 

u  Oh.   very   true !     It   was  there  we  met :   I   remembei 


280  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

the  song  you  sang.  What  a  pity  Mrs.  Yorkton  has  nt 
piano  ! " 

I  was  too  much  disconcerted  by  the  mistake  to  set  hei 
right;  but  Mrs.  Yorkton,  beholding  us,  bent  down  her 
forget-me-nots  and  whispered,  "And  you  never  told  me, 
JVIiss  Levi,  that  you  knew  Mr.  Godfrey  !  Why  did  you  not 
bring  him  into  our  circle  before  ?  " 

Miss  Levi  cast  a  side-glance  at  me,  recalled  my  person- 
ality, and  answered,  with  perfect  self-possession,  "  Oh,  I 
think  poets  should  find  their  way  to  each  other  by  instinct 
I  can  understand  them,  though  I  may  not  be  of  them. 
Besides,  he  is  false  and  faithless.  You  know  you  are,  Mr. 
Godfrey :  you  are  like  a  bee,  going  from  flower  to  flower." 

"  Which  is  worse,  Miss  Levi,"  I  asked,  —  "  the  bee  that 
visits  many  flowers,  or  the  flower  that  entertains  many 
bees  ?  " 

She  spread  her  fan,  covered  the  lower  part  of  her  face 
with  it,  and  fixed  me  with  her  powerful  eyes,  while  Mrs. 
Yorkton  nodded  her  head  and  observed,  "An  admirable 
antithesis  !  " 

"  Now,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  Miss  Levi  resumed,  removing  her 
fan,  "  that  is  a  spiteful  remark,  and  you  know  it.  You 
must  repeat  to  me  your  last  poem,  before  I  can  forgive 
you." 

"  Pray  do !  "  cried  Mrs.  Yorkton,  clasping  her  hands  in 
entreaty.  "  Let  us  be  the  first  to  welcome  it,  before  you 
cast  it  forth  to  the  hollow  echoes  of  the  world.  Mr.  Dan- 
forth  has  promised  to  read  to  us  the  first  act  of  his  new 
tragedy,  and  your  poem  will  be  a  lyrical  prelude  to  the 
sterner  recitation." 

But  I  was  steadfast  in  my  refusal.  I  had  written  nothing 
since  the  publication  of  my  volume,  and  how  was  I  to  utter 
to  the  ears  of  others  the  words  of  love  which  had  become 
a  mockery  to  my  own  heart  ?  The  controversy  drew  the 
eyes  of  others  upon  us,  until  Brandagee  came  to  my  rescue, 
by  proclaiming  his  own  lack  of  modesty,  and  demanding  a 
test  upon  the  spot 


-JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  281 


•*  What  shall  it  be  ?  "  he  asked  :  "  a  recitation,  a 
improvisation,  or  an  extemporaneous  dramatic  soliloquy  . 
There  's  no  difference  between  writing  a  thing  for  others 
to  read,  and  speaking  it  for  others  to  hear.  Poetry  is  only 
a  habit  of  the  mind  —  a  little  practice  makes  it  come  as 
pat  as  prose.  There  was  my  friend,  Von  Struensee,  the 
great  composer,  who  took  it  into  his  head,  when  he  was; 
fifty  years  old,  to  write  the  librettos  of  his  own  operas. 
Never  had  attempted  a  line  of  poetry  before  ;  so  he  began 
by  lifting  the  calf,  and  it  was  n't  long  before  he  could  shoul- 
der the  ox.  The  first  day  he  wrote  two  lines  ;  the  second, 
four  ;  the  third,  eight  ;  the  fourth,  sixteen  ;  doubling  every 
day  until  he  could  do  eighteen  hundred  lines  without  stop- 
ping to  take  breath.  Do  you  know  that  Sir  Egerton 
Brydges  wrote  fourteen  thousand  sonnets,  and  I  've  no  doubt 
they  were  as  good  as  Cardinal  Bembo's,  who  took  forty 
days  to  a  single  one.  Give  me  an  inspiring  subject,  —  the 
present  occasion,  for  instance,  or  an  apostrophe  to  our  tal- 
ented hostess,  —  and  I  '11  turn  out  the  lines  faster  than  you 
can  write  them." 

The  proposal  was  hailed  with  acclamation,  and  the  little 
interval  which  occurred  in  choosing  a  subject  gave  Bran- 
dagee  time  to  collect  his  thoughts  for  the  work.  He  had 
skilfully  suggested  a  theme,  which,  having  been  mentioned, 
could  not  well  be  overlooked,  and,  to  Mrs.  Yorkton's  intense 
satisfaction,  she  became  his  inspiration.  He  rattled  off 
with  great  rapidity  a  string  of  galloping  lines,  in  which 
there  was  not  much  cohesion,  but  plenty  of  extravaganl 
compliment  and  some  wit  However,  it  passed  as  a  mar- 
vellous performance,  and  was  loudly  applauded. 

Other  subjects  were  immediately  suggested,  considerably 
to  Mr.  Danforth's  annoyance.  This  gentleman  had  been 
fidgeting  about  the  room  uneasily,  with  one  hand  in  his 
pocket,  occasionally  drawing  forth  a  roll  of  paper  tied  with 
red  ribbon,  and  then  thrusting  it  back  again.  Brandagee 
perceiving  the  movement,  said,  — 


282  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

u  Do  not  run  the  Pierian  fountain  dry  all  at  once,  I  beg 
of  you.  But,  if  Mr.  Dan  forth  will  allow  me.  I  will  read 
the  portion  of  his  tragedy  with  which  he  intends  to  favor 
us  I  flatter  myself  that  I  can  do  justice  to  his  diction." 

The  proposal  met  with  favor  from  all  except  the  author 
Thrusting  the  roll  deeper  into  his  pocket,  and  stiffening  his 
head  angrily,  he  protested  that  no  one  could  or  should  read 
his  own  manuscript  except  himself.  Besides,  he  had  not 
positively  promised  that  the  company  should  hear  it ;  the 
plot  was  not  yet  developed,  and  hence  the  situations  would 
not  be  properly  understood.  It  would  be  better,  perhaps, 
if  he  waited  until  the  completion  of  the  second  act. 

"  Wait  until  all  five  are  finished  !  "  said  Mr.  Smithers 
"  It  is  a  bad  plan  to  produce  your  torsos ;  I  never  knew  of 
any  good  to  come  of  it.  Give  me  the  complete  figure,  — 
bone,  muscle,  and  drapery,  and  then  I'll  tell  you  what 
it  is  !  " 

Brandagee  seconded  Mr,  Smithers's  views  so  heartily  that 
the  postponement  of  the  reading  was  soon  accepted,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  by  the  company.  Mr.  Danforth  was  con- 
sequently in  a  very  ill  humor  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 
He  would  have  gone  home  at  once  but  that  Clara  Colludy. 
whom  he  escorted,  declared  that  she  was  very  well  pleased 
with  the  entertainment  and  was  determined  to  remain. 

Adonis  now  reappeared  with  a  tray,  and  we  were  re- 
galed with  cups  of  weak  tea,  and  cakes  of  peculiar  texture. 
Under  the  influence  of  these  stimulants,  harmony  was  re- 
stored, and  the  orbits  of  the  congenial  spirits  ceased  to 
clash.  The  midnight  reports  of  fires  and  accidents  called 
me  away  soon  afterwards,  and  I  tore  myself  from  Miss 
Levi's  penetrating  eyes,  and  Mrs.  Yorkton's  clutching 
hands,  promising  to  return  on  successive  Friday  evenings. 
Brandagee  left  with  me,  satisfied,  as  he  said,  with  having 
"  choked  off  Danforth." 

As  I  was  leaving  the  room,  I  caught  sight  of  a  mild, 
diminutive  gentleman,  seated  alone  in  the  corner  nearest 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  2ft?» 

the  door.  lie  was  looking  on  and  listening,  with  an  air  of 
modest  enjoyment.  .None  of  the  others  seemed  to  notice 
him,  and  I  suspected  that  he  had  been  even  forgotten  by 
Adonis  and  the  tea-tray.  Catching  my  eye,  he  jumped  up 
briskly,  shook  hands,  and  said,  — 

"  Very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  call.     Come  again  I " 

It  was  Mr.  Yorkton. 


284  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER   XXIL 

ni    WHICH   I   KNTEB   GENTEEL    SOCIETY   AND   MEET  Mr  BIJ. 
ATIVES. 

WHEN  the  first  bitterness  of  my  humiliation  and  disap- 
pointment had  subsided,  and  the  conviction  penetrated  my 
mind  that  it  might  still  be  possible  for  me  .to  take  a  mod- 
erate delight  in  life,  I  found  that  I  had  quite  broken  loose 
from  my  youthful  moorings  and  was  more  or  less  adrift, 
both  in  faith  and  morals.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  was  guilty 
of  actual  violations  of  my  early  creed ;  my  life  was  so  far 
correct,  through  the  negative  virtue  of  habit ;  but  I  was  in 
that  baseless  condition  where  a  strong  current  —  not  much 
matter  from  what  side  it  came  —  might  have  carried  me  far 
enough  to  settle  the  character  of  my  future  life.  I  have 
always  considered  it  a  special  blessing  that  so  much  of  my 
time  was  given  to  responsible  and  wearying  labor  in  those 
days.  I  retained  my  position  on  the  Wonder,  because  I  had 
not  sufficient  energy  to  seek  an  easier  situation,  and  no  de- 
sire to  try  new  associations.  The  variety  of  my  work  pre 
vented  steady  thought,  and  I  found  less  difficulty  in  escaping 
from  the  contemplation  of  my  wrongs.  Not  yet,  however, 
was  I  able  to  congratulate  myself  on  the  treachery  which 
had  released  my  heart  from  a  mistaken  bond. 

I  attended  Mrs.  Yorkton's  receptions  quite  regularly  for 
some  weeks.  As  the  steady  summer  heats  came  on,  her 
bower  was  partly  deserted,  the  artists  and  authors  having 
gone  into  the  rural  districts  and  taken  many  of  the  "  appre- 
ciative sympathizers "  with  them.  Miss  Levi  departed, 
eay  in  July,  for  "  old  Long  Island's  sea-girt  shore  "  (as  she 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  285 

remarked).  I  afterwards  discovered  that  she  meant  Fire 
Island.  It  was  at  once  a  relief  and  a  regret  to  me,  when 
she  left.  I  began  to  enjoy  the  sham  skirmishes  of  senti 
rnent  in  which  we  indulged,  especially  as  there  was  no  like- 
lihood of  either  being  damaged  by  the  pastime  ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  I  was  a  little  afraid  of  her  bewildering 
glances,  which  seemed  to  increase  in  frequency  and  power 
of  fascination  every  time  we  met. 

Brandagee  did  not  again  attend.  He  left  the  city,  soou 
after  our  acquaintance  commenced,  for  a  tour  of  the  wa- 
tering-places, and  his  sharp,  saucy,  brilliant  letters  from 
Newport  and  Saratoga  took  the  place  of  his  dramatic  criti- 
cisms in  the  columns  of  the  Wonder.  I  prevailed  on 
Swansford  to  accompany  me,  on  two  occasions,  and  Mrs. 
Yorktown  was  very  grateful.  Music,  she  said,  had  not  yet 
been  represented  in  her  society,  and  she  was  delighted  to 
be  able  to  present  what  she  called  "  The  Wedded  Circle 
of  the  Arts,"  although  certain  that  Mrs.  Mallard  would  be 
furious  when  she  should  hear  of  it.  The  thinness  of  the 
attendance  during  the  dog-days  gave  me  an  opportunity  to 
cultivate  Mr.  Yorkton's  acquaintance,  and  the  modest  little 
man  soon  began  to  manifest  a  strong  attachment  for  me. 

"  Bless  you,  Mr.  Godfrey ! "  he  said,  I  don't  know  how 
many  times,  "  I  s'pose  I  'm  of  no  consequence  to  you  Ge- 
nusses,  but  I  do  like  to  exchange  a  friendly  word  with  a 
body.  These  is  all  distinguished  people,  and  I  'm  proud 
to  entertain  'em.  It  does  credit  to  Her  —  I  can  see  that. 
I  'm  told  you  can't  find  sich  another  Galaxy  of  Intellex, 
not  in  New- York.  A  man  in  my  position  has  a  right  to  be 
proud  o'  that" 

Although  he  often  referred  to  his  position  in  the  same 
humble  manner,  I  never  ascertained  what  it  was.  When  I 
ventured  to  put  forth  a  delicate  reconnoissance,  he  looked 
at  his  wife,  as  if  expecting  a  warning  glance,  and  I  then 
surmised  that  she  had  prohibited  him  from  mentioning  th« 
subject. 


286  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

I  made  but  little  progress  in  my  literary  career  during 
this  time.  Not  more  than  seventy-five  copies  of  my  book 
had  been  sold,  and  although  the  publisher  did  not  seem  to 
be  at  all  surprised  at  this  result,  I  confess  I  was.  Never- 
theless, when  I  read  it  again  in  my  changed  mood,  sneer- 
ing at  myself  for  the  under-current  of  love  and  tenderness 
which  ran  through  it, —  recalling  the  hopes  with  which  1 
had  written,  and  the  visions  of  happiness  it  was  to  herald, 
—  I  found  there  was  not  left  sufficient  pride  in  my  perform- 
ance to  justify  me  in  feeling  sensitive  because  it  had  failed. 
I  contributed  two  or  three  stories  to  "  The  Hesperian,"  but 
early  in  the  fall  Mr.  Jenks  became  bankrupt,  and  the  mag- 
azine passed  into  other  hands.  My  principal  story  was 
published  the  month  this  disaster  occurred,  and  it  has  not 
been  decided  to  this  day,  I  believe,  which  party  was  re- 
sponsible for  the  payment.  All  I  understand  of  the  matter 
is  that  the  payment  was  never  made. 

My  increased  salary,  nevertheless,  suggested  the  propri- 
ety of  living  in  a  somewhat  better  style  than  Mrs.  Very's 
domestic  circle  afforded.  It  was  hard  to  part  from  my  daily 
companionship  with  Swansford,  but  he  generously  admitted 
the  necessity  of  the  change  in  my  case,  and  I  faithfully 
promised  that  we  should  still  see  each  other  twice  or  thrice 
a  week.  It  was  more  difficult  to  escape  from  Mrs.  Very. 
"  It 's  an  awful  breaking  up  of  the  family,"  said  she,  "  and 
I  did  n't  think  you  'd  serve  me  so.  I  've  boarded  you 
reasonable,  though  I  say  it.  I  may  not  be  Fashionable," 
(giving  a  loud  sniff  at  the  word,)  "  but  I  'm  Respectable, 
and  that 's  more  !  " 

At  dinner,  that  day,  she  made  the  announcement  of  my 
departure  in  a  pleasant  voice  and  with  a  smiling  face.  Rut 
the  constrained  vexation  broke  out  in  her  closing  words,  — 
"  There  's  some  that  stands  by  me  faithful,  and  some  that 
dont." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mortimer  expressed  their  regret  in  phrases 
which  the  Complete  Letter- Writer  could  not  have  im- 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  287 

proved,  while  Miss  Tatting,  in  whom  Impulsiveness  waged 
a  continual  war  with  Conventionality,  came  plumply  forth 
with  her  real  sentiments. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,"  said  she  ;  "  you  are  getting  up  in  the 
world,  and  Hester  Street  is  too  much  out  of  the  way.  It  'a 
natural  in  you.  and  I  don't  blame  you  a  bit.  I  've  oftei< 
said  it  would  turn  out  so.  —  have  n't  I.  Martha  ?  " 

This  was  to  Miss  Dunlap,  who  glanced  at  me  with  E 
stealthy  look  of  reproach,  as  she  murmured.  "  Yes.  aunt.' 

I  knew  that  I  was  a  monster  of  ingratitude  in  Mrs 
Very's  eyes,  a  fortunate  man  in  the  Mortimers',  and  a 
proud  one  in  those  of  Miss  Tatting  and  her  niece.  My 
last  dinner  in  Hester  Street  was  therefore  constrained  and 
uncomfortable,  and  I  made  all  haste  to  evacuate  the  famil- 
iar attic  room.  My  new  residence  was  the  elegant  board- 
ing-house of  Mrs.  De  Peyster,  in  Bleecker  Street,  west  of 
Broadway.  Here  I  paid  six  dollars  a  week  for  a  fourth- 
itory  room  back,  furnished  with  decayed  elegance,  having 
a  grate  for  winter,  a  mosquito-net  for  summer,  and  a  small 
mahojjanv  cabinet  and  bookcase  for  all  seasons.  The  lat- 

o        «. 

tor.  in  fact,  was  the  lure  which  had  fascinated  me,  on  the 
day  when  Mrs.  De  Peyster,  waiting  in  state  in  the  parlor 
below,  sent  me  up-stairs  with  the  chambermaid  to  inspect 
the  room. 

When  my  effects  had  been  transferred  to  these  new  quar- 
ters, and  I  had  arranged  my  small  stock  of  books  on  the 
shelves,  placed  my  manuscript  in  the  drawers  of  the  cabi- 
net, and  seated  myself  with  Wordsworth  in  an  arm-chair 
at  the  open  window,  I  seemed  to  be  enveloped  at  once  in 
an  atmosphere  of  superior  gentility.  The  backyards  em- 
braced in  my  view  were  not  only  more  spacious  than  those 
under  Swansford's  window  in  Hester  Street,  but  the  board- 
partitions  between  them  were  painted,  and  a  row  of  grape 
arbors  hid  the  lower  stories  of  the  opposite  block.  From 
one  of  ihe  open  windows  below  me  arose  the  sound  of  a 
piano.  It  was  not  a  favorable  post  for  reading  enthusiastic 


288  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

lines  about  celandines  and  daffodils,  and  I  frankly  admit 
that  I  found  Wordsworth  rather  tame. 

This  was  during  the  half  hour  before  dinner.  When  the 
bell  rang,  I  descended,  not  to  the  basement,  but  to  the 
back- parlor,  where  Mrs.  De  Peyster  introduced  me  to  mj 
neighbor  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  Mr.  Renwick,  a  clerk  in 
an  importing  house  down  town.  He  was  a  younger,  taller, 
and  more  elegant  variety  of  the  Mortimer  type  :  correct- 
ness was  his  prominent  characteristic.  There  was  also  & 
young  married  couple,  a  family  consisting  of  father,  moth- 
er, and  two  daughters,  and  four  gentlemen  of  various  ages, 
all  bearing  the  same  stamp  of  unimpeachable  propriety. 
The  dinner  was  a  much  more  solemn  affair  than  at  Mrs. 
Very's.  Thin  morsels  of  fish  succeeded  the  soup,  and  the 
conversation,  commencing  with  the  roast  and  vegetables, 
in  a  series  of  tentative  skirmishes,  only  became  fairly 
established  towards  the  close  of  the  meal. 

Mr.  Renwick,  oblivious  of  my  presence  for  the  first  ten 
minutes  after  the  introduction,  suddenly  startled  me  by 
saying,  — 

"  I  see  that  Erie  went  up  at  the  Second  Board,  to-day." 

'•  Indeed  ?  "  I  remarked,  feeling  that  a  slight  expression 
of  surprise  would  not  be  out  of  place ;  though  what  "  Erie  " 
was,  and  why  it  should  go  up  at  the  Second  Board,  was  a 
mystery  to  me. 

"  Yes.  Five  eighths,"  said  he.  Then,  as  if  conscious 
that  he  had  done  his  duty,  he  became  silent  again  until  the 
close  of  the  dessert,  when,  warming  up  over  a  slice  of  water- 
melon, he  observed,  in  a  lower  and  more  confidential  tone,  — 

"  I  should  n't  wonder  if  the  balance  of  Exchange  were 
on  our  side  before  Christmas." 

••  What  reasons  have  you  for  thinking  so  ? "  I  asked  at 
random. 

u  Crops.     I  always  keep  the  run  of  them" 

"  They  are  very  fine,  I  suppose,"  I  ventured  to  say,  witk 
fear  and  trembling. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  289 

•'  You  mean  here  ?  Yes.  And  I  see  that  the  prospect? 
of  Pork  are  flattering.  Everything  combines,  yon  know." 

I  did  n't  know  in  the  least,  but  of  course  I  nodded  and 
looked  wise,  and  said  I  was  glad  to  hear  it.  Of  all  talk  1 
had  ever  heard,  this  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  most  dread 
fully  soulless.  I  looked  up  the  table  and  listened.  The 
two  girls  were  talking  with  the  young  wife  about  a  wonder- 
ful poplin  at  Stewart's,  —  silver  gray  with  green  sprigs  ; 
the  gentlemen  were  discussing  the  relative  speed  of  Scal- 
pel and  Oriana,  and  the  heavy  mother  was  lamenting  to 
the  attentive  Mrs.  De  Peyster  that  they  had  been  obliged 
to  leave  Newport  before  the  regatta  came  off,  "  on  account 
of  Mr.  Yarrow's  business,  —  the  firm  never  can  spare  him 
for  more  than  a  month  at  a  time." 

How  I  longed  for  the  transparent  pretension  of  the  table 
in  Hester  Street,  constantly  violating  the  rules  of  its  own 
demonstrative  gentility  !  For  my  easy  chat  with  Swans- 
ford,  for  Miss  Dunlap's  faded  sentiment,  Miss  Tatting's  fear- 
less impulsiveness,  and  even  Mrs.  Very's  stiffly  stereotyped 
phrases !  There,  the  heavy  primitive  cooking  was  digested 
by  the  help  of  lively  nothings  of  talk  and  the  peristaltic 
stimulus  of  laughter :  here,  the  respectably  dressed  viands, 
appearing  in  their  conventional  order  of  procession,  were 
received  with  a  stately  formality  which  seemed  to  repel  their 
attempts  at  assimilation.  "  Erie  "  and  the  "  balance  of 
exchange  "  mixed,  somehow,  with  the  vanilla-flavored  blanc 
mange,  and  lay  heavy  on  my  stomach  :  the  prospect  of  Mr. 
Renwick's  neighborhood  embarrassed  and  discouraged  me, 
but  I  could  not  see  that  any  advantage  would  be  gained  by 
changing  my  place  at  the  table. 

After  dinner  I  hurried  across  to  my  old  quarters,  for  the 
relief  of  Swansford's  company.  He  laughed  heartily  at  my 
description  of  the  genteel  society  into  which  I  was  now 
introduced,  and  said,  — 

"  Ah,  Godfrey,  you  '11  find  as  I  have  done  that  Art  spoils 
yuu  for  life.  It  is  the  old  alternative  of  God  or  Mammon: 


290  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

you  can't  serve  two  masters.  Try  it,  if  you  like,  but  1 
see  how  it  will  end.  I  have  made  my  choice,  and  will 
stick  to  it  until  I  die  :  you  think  you  have  made  yours, 
but  you  have  not  You  are  getting  further  from  Art 
every  day,"  * 

I  resented  this  opinion  rather  warmly,  because  I  felt 
a  suspicion  of  its  truth.  I  protested  that  nothing  else  but 
Literature  was  now  left  me  to  live  for.  It  was  true  I  had 
seemed  to  neglect  it  of  late,  but  he,  Swansford,  knew  the 
reason,  and  ought  to  be  the  last  man  to  charge  me  with 
apostasy  to  my  lofty  intellectual  aims.  He  half  smiled,  in 
his  sweet,  sad  way,  and  gave  me  his  hand. 

"  Forgive  me,  Godfrey,"  he  said ;  "  I  did  n't  mean  as 
much  as  you  supposed.  I  was  thinking  of  that  single- 
hearted  devotion  to  Art,  of  which  few  men  are  capable, 
and  which,  God  knows,  I  should  not  wish  you  to  possess, 
unless  you  were  sure  that  you  were  destined  to  reach  the 
highest  place.  Most  authors  and  artists  live  in  the  border 
land,  and  make  excursions  from  time  to  time  over  the 
frontier,  but  there  are  few  indeed  who  build  their  dwell- 
ings on  the  side  turned  away  from  the  world!" 

"  I  understand  you  now,  Swansford,"  I  answered,  "  and 
you  are  right  I  am  not  destined  to  be  one  of  the  highest ; 
don't  think  that  I  ever  imagined  it.  I  am  cart  alone  on  the 
world.  I  have  been  cheated  and  outraged,  as  you  know. 
I  see  Life  before  me,  offering  other  —  lower  modes  of  en- 
joyment, I  will  not  deny  ;  but  where  else  shall  I  turn  for 
compensation  ?  Suppose  I  should  achieve  fame  as  an  au- 
thor ?  I  have  a  little  already,  and  I  feel  that  even  the 
highest  would  not  repay  me  for  what  I  have  lost  I  shall 
not  reject  any  other  good  the  gods  provide  me.  I  've  tried 
purity  and  fidelity  of  heart,  to  no  purpose.  I  don't  say  thai 
1  '11  try  the  opposite,  now,  but  you  could  n't  blame  me  if  1 
did  ! " 

"  Come,  Godfrey,"  said  he,  "  I  've  written  a  voluntan 
for  the  organist  of  St.  Barnaby's.  He  paid  me  to-day,  and 


JOI1X   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  291 

C  have  two  dollars  to  spare.  We  '11  go  out  and  ha  /e  a  lit- 
tle supper  together." 

Which  we  did,  and  in  the  course  of  which  we  put  the 
World  on  its  trial,  heard  all  the  arguments  on  either  side, 
rendered  (without  leaving  our  seats)  a  verdict  of  "  Guilty," 
and  invoked  the  sentence  which  we  wore  powerless  to  in- 
flict. What  should  I  have  done  without  that  safety-valve 
of  Swansford's  friendship  ? 

By-and-by  I  grew  more  accustomed  to  my  life  in  Bleecker 
Street.  I  found  that  Mr.  Renwick  could  talk  about  Mrs. 
Pudge  and  the  drama,  as  well  as  Erie  and  the  Second 
Board  ;  and  that  Mr.  Blossom,  the  very  same  gentleman 
who  had  bet  ten  dollars  on  Scalpel  at  the  Long  Island 
races,  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Tennyson.  He  had 
a  choice  library  of  the  English  Poets  in  his  room,  and  oc- 
casionally lent  me  volumes.  I  learned  to  read  Words- 
worth at  my  window,  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  fashion- 
able redowa  on  the  first-floor  piano,  and  after  many  days 
there  dawned  upon  my  brain  the  conviction  that  there  was 
another  kind  of  poetry  than  Tom  Moore's  and  Felicia  He- 
mans's. 

I  grew  tolerably  skilful  in  the  performance  of  my  labor 
for  the  Wntnler.  having  fallen  into  an  unconscious  imitation 
of  Brandagee's  smart,  flashy  style,  which  gave  piquancy  to 
my  descriptions  and  reports.  Mr.  Clarendon  was  quite 
satisfied  with  my  performance,  though  he  let  fall  a  word  of 
warning.  "  This  manner,"  he  said,  "  is  very  well  for  your 
present  department,  but,  if  you  want  to  advance,  you  must 
not  let  it  corrupt  you  entirely." 

Thus  the  summer  and  part  of  the  autumn  passed  away, 
without  bringing  any  occurrence  worthy  of  being  recorded. 
Towards  the  end  of  October,  however,  a  sudden  and  most 
unexpected  pleasure  came  to  cheer  me. 

I  had  gone  into  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel  on  some  errand 
connected  with  my  newspaper  labors,  and  was  passing  out 
again  through  the  marble-paved  lobby,  when  a  gentleman 


292  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

suddenly  ai  ose  from  the  row  of  loungers  on  the  broad,  car 
pet-covered  stalls,  and  stepped  before  me.  A  glance  of  his 
dark,  questioning  eyes  seemed  to  satisfy  him ;  he  seized  my 
hand,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  John  Godfrey,  is  this  really  you  ?  " 

Penrose !  my  cousin !  I  had  not  forgotten  him,  although 
our  correspondence,  after  languishing  for  a  few  months, 
had  died  a  natural  death  before  I  left  Reading.  For  two 
years  I  had  heard  no  word  of  him,  and,  since  my  bitter 
experience  of  the  past  summer,  had  reckoned  it  as  one  of 
the  improbable  possibilities  of  life  that  we  should  ever  meet 
again.  His  boyish  beauty  had  ripened  into  an  equally 
noble  manhood.  He  was  taller  and  stronger  limbed,  with- 
out having  lost  any  of  his  grace  and  symmetry.  A  soft, 
thick  moustache  hid  the  sharp,  scornful  curve  of  his  upper 
lip,  and  threw  a  shade  over  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and 
the  fitful,  passionate  spirit  which  once  shot  from  his  eyes 
had  given  place  to  a  full,  steady  ray  of  power.  As  I  looked 
at  him,  I  felt  proud  that  the  same  blood  ran  in  our  veins. 

We  sought  out  a  vacant  corner  in  the  reading-room  and 
sat  down  together.  He  looked  once  more  into  my  eyes 
with  an  expression  of  honest  affection,  which  warmed  the 
embers  of  my  school-boy  feeling  for  him  in  an  instant. 

"  We  should  not  have  lost  sight  of  each  other,  John,"  he 
said.  "  It  was  more  my  fault  than  yours,  I  think ;  but  I 
never  forgot  you.  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes  when 
we  met,  just  now.  Yours  is  a  face  that  would  change  more 
than  mine.  There  is  not  much  of  the  boy  left  in  it.  Come, 
give  me  your  history  since  you  left  Dr.  Dymond's." 

I  complied,  omitting  the  most  important  episode.  Pen 
rose  heard  the  story  with  keen  interest,  interrupting  me 
only  with  an  ejaculation  of  "  The  old  brute ! "  when  I  re 
lated  my  uncle's  management  of  my  inheritance. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  when  I  had  finished,  "  you  shall  have 
my  story.  There  is  very  little  of  it.  I  was  twenty,  you 
may  remember,  when  I  left  the  Doctor's  school,  and  went 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  298 

mto  my  uncle's  office.  I  had  no  expectation  of  ever  receiv- 
ing any  assistance  from  my  father,  and  worked  like  a  youn^ 
fellow  who  has  his  fortune  to  make.  I  believe  I  showed 
some  business  capacity  ;  at  least  my  uncle  thought  so  ;  and 
after  I  came  of  age  my  father  found  it  prudent  to  make  an 
outside  show  of  reconciliation.  Matilda  insists  that  the 
Cook  had  a  hand  in  it,  but  I  prefer  not  to  believe  it  If 
she  had.  I  rather  think  she  was  disappointed  at  the  result ; 
for,  when  my  father  died,  a  year  ago,  he  only  left  her  the 
legal  third.  The  rest  was  divided  between  Matilda  and 
myself.  I  'm  sure  I  expected  to  be  cut  off  with  a  shilling, 
but  it  seems  his  sense  of  justice  came  back  to  him  at  the 
last.  His  fortune  was  much  less  than  everybody  supposed, 
—  barely  a  hundred  thousand  —  and  I  have  my  suspicions 
that  the  Cook  laid  away  an  extra  share  in  her  own  name 
before  his  death.  It  makes  no  difference  to  me  now ;  we 
are  well  rid  of  her.  Matilda  was  married  a  month  ago, 
and,  though  I  can't  say  that  I  particularly  admire  the 
brother-in-law  she  has  selected  for  me,  I  am  satisfied  that 
she  is  out  of  the  hands  of  that  woman." 

"  Are  you  living  in  New  York,  Alexander  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  now ;  but  I  may  fix  my  home  here,  very  soon.  ] 
shall  have  another  motive,  old  fellow,  now  that  I  know  yon 
are  here.  I  have  a  chance  of  getting  into  a  firm  down 
town,  if  my  little  capital  can  be  stretched  to  meet  the  sum 
demanded.  I  have  luxurious  tastes,  —  they  are  in  the 
Hatrfeld  blood,  are  they  not  ?  —  and  I  could  not  be  con- 
tent to  sit  down  at  my  age,  with  my  two  thousand  a  year. 
I  suppose  I  shall  marry  some  day,  and  then  I  must  have 
ten  thousand." 

It  did  not  surprise  me  to  hear  Penrose  speak  slightingly 
of  a  fortune  which,  to  me,  would  have  been  a  splendid  com- 
petence. It  belonged  to  his  magnificent  air,  and  any  stran- 
ger could  have  seen  that  he  would  certainly  acquire  what- 
ever his  ambi/ion  might  select  as  being  necessary  to  his 
life.  I  never  knew  a  man  who,  without  genius,  so  im- 


294  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

pressed  every  one  with  a  belief  in  his  powers  of  command 
ing  success. 

As  I  stretched  out  my  hand  to  say  good-bye,  he  grasped 
me  by  the  arm,  and  said,  "  You  must  see  Matilda.  She  is 
in  her  private  parlor,  and  I  think  Shanks,  her  husband, 
will  be  at  home  by  this  time." 

I  had  no  very  strong  desire  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
my  other  cousin,  and  I  suppose  Penrose  must  have  read 
the  fact  in  my  face,  for  he  remarked,  as  we  were  mount- 
ing the  stairs,  "  Now  I  remember,  there  was  something 
in  one  of  Matilda's  letters  which  was  not  very  flattering  to 
you.  But  I  have  told  her  of  our  friendship  since,  and  I 
know  that  she  will  be  really  glad  to  see  you.  She  has  not 
a  bad  heart,  when  you  once  get  down  to  it ;  though  it  seems 
to  me,  sometimes,  to  be  as  grown  over  with  selfish  habits 
and  affectations  as  a  ship's  hull  with  barnacles." 

When  we  entered  the  private  parlor  on  the  third  floor,  I 
perceived  an  elegant  figure  seated  at  the  window. 

"  'Till,"  said  Penrose,  "  come  here  and  shake  hands  with 
our  cousin,  John  Godfrey ! " 

"  R-really  ? "  she  exclaimed,  with  as  much  surprise  as 
was  compatible  with  a  high-bred  air,  and  the  next  moment 
rustled  superbly  across  the  room. 

"  How  do  you  do,  cousin  ?  "  she  said,  giving  me  a  jew 
elled  hand.  "Are  you  my  cousin,  Mr.  Godfrey?  Aleck 
explained  it  all  to  me  once  how  you  found  out  the  relation- 
ship, somewhere  in  a  wild  glen,  was  n't  it  ?  It  was  quite 
romantic,  I  know,  and  I  envied  him  at  the  time.  You 
have  the  Hatzfeld  eyes,  certainly,  like  us.  I  'm  sure  I  'm 
very  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

I  expressed  my  own  gratification  with  as  much  show  of 
sincerity  as  I  could  command.  Matilda  Shanks  was  a  tall, 
fine-looking  woman,  though  by  no  means  so  luindsome  as 
her  brother.  Her  eyes  and  hair  were  dark,  like  his,  but 
her  face  was  longer,  and  some  change  in  the  setting  of  the 
features,  almost  too  slight  to  be  defined,  substituted  an  ex 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  295 

prcs^ion  of  weakness  for  the  strength  of  his.  She  must 
have  been  twenty-seven,  but  appeared  to  be  two  or  three 
years  older,  —  a  result  probably,  of  the  tutorship  she  had 
assumed  on  her  step-mother's  behalf. 

"  Well,  'Till,"  said  Penrose,  when  we  had  seated  ourselves 
in  a  triangular  group,  "  do  you  find  him  presentable  ?  " 

Her  eyes  had  already  carefully  gone  over  my  persoi 
from  head  to  foot  "  Tres  comme  il  faut"  she  answered  ; 
"  but  I  took  your  word  for  that  beforehand,  Aleck." 

"  You  must  know,  Godfrey,  that  Matilda  is  a  perfect 
dragon  in  regard  to  dress,  manners,  and  all  the  other  requi- 
sites of  social  salvation.  It 's  a  piece  of  good  luck  to  pass 
muster  with  her,  I  assure  you.  I  have  not  succeeded 
yet" 

She  was  beginning  to  put  in  an  affected  disclaimer  when 
Mr.  Shanks  entered  the  room.  I  saw  his  calibre  at  the 
first  glance.  The  wide  trousers,  flapping  around  the  thin 
legs ;  the  light  loose  coat  elegantly  fitting  at  the  shoulders 
and  just  touching  its  fronts  on  the  narrow  ground  of  a 
single  button ;  the  exquisite  collar,  the  dainty  gloves  and 
patent-leather  boots,  and  the  gold-headed  switch,  all  pro- 
claimed the  fashionable  young  gentleman,  while  the  dull, 
lustreless  stare  of  the  eyes,  the  dark  bands  under  them, 
and  the  listless,  half-closed  mouth,  told  as  plainly  of  shallow 
brains  and  dissipated  habits.  He  came  dancing  up  to  his 
wife,  put  one  arm  around  her  neck  and  kissed  her. 

She  lifted  up  her  hand  and  gave  his  imperial  a  little 
twitch,  by  way  of  returning  the  caress,  and  then  said,  "  Ed- 
mund, my  cousin,  Mr.  Godfrey." 

••  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Edmund,  hastily  thrusting  an  eye-glass 
into  his  left  eye  and  turning  towards  me.  Retaining  his 
hold  of  the  switch  with  two  fingers,  he  graciously  presented 
me  with  the  other  two,  as  he  drawled  out  "  Very  happy, 
sir." 

I  was  vexed  at  myself  afterwards  that  I  gave  him  my 
whole  hand.  I  know  of  no  form  of  vulgarity  so  offensive 


•J96  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

as  this  offering  of  a  fractional  salutation.     None  but  a  snol 
would  ever  be  guilty  of  it- 

A  conversation  about  billiards  and  trotting-horses  ensued, 
and  I  broke  away  in  the  midst  of  it,  after  promising  to  dine 
with  the  Shanks  at  an  early  day. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  297 


CHAPTER  XXTTT. 

DESCRIBING    MY    INTERVIEW  WITH    MART   MALONEY. 

ONE  result  of  ray  out-door  occupation  was  to  make  me 
familiar  with  all  parts  of  the  city.  During  the  first  year 
of  my  residence  I  had  seen  little  else  than  Broadway,  from 
the  Battery  to  Union  Square,  Chatham  Street,  and  the 
Bowery.  I  now  discovered  that  there  were  many  other 
regions,  each  possessing  a  distinct  individuality  and  a  sep- 
arate city-life  of  its  own.  From  noticing  the  external  char- 
acteristics, I  came  gradually  to  study  the  peculiarities  of 
the  inhabitants,  and  thus  obtained  a  knowledge  which  was 
not  only  of  great  advantage  to  me  in  a  professional  sense, 
but  gave  me  an  interest  in  men  which  counteracted,  to 
some  extent,  the  growing  cynicism  of  my  views.  Often, 
when  tired  of  reading  and  feeling  no  impulse  to  write,  (the 
greatest  portion  of  my  literary  energy  being  now  expended 
on  my  regular  duties,)  I  would  pass  an  idle  but  not  useless 
hour  in  wandering  around  the  sepulchral  seclusion  of  St. 
John's  Park,  with  its  obsolete  gentility  ;  or  the  solid  plain- 
ness of  East  Broadway, —  home  of  plodding  and  prosperous 
men  of  business ;  or  the  cosmopolitan  rag-fair  of  Green- 
wich Street ;  or  the  seething  lowest  depth  of  the  Five 
Points ;  the  proud  family  aristocracy  of  Second,  or  the 
pretentious  moneyed  aristocracy  of  Fifth  Avenue,  —  invol- 
untarily contrasting  and  comparing  these  spheres  of  life, 
each  of  which  retained  its  independent  motion,  while  re- 
volving in  the  same  machine. 

I  will  not  trouble  the  reader  with  the  speculations  which 
these  experiences  suggested.  They  were  sufficiently  com 


298  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

monplace.  I  dare  say,  and  have  been  uttered  several  mil- 
lions  of  times,  by  young  men  of  the  same  age  ;  but  I  none 
the  less  thought  them  both  original  and  profound,  and  con- 
sidered myself  a  philosopher,  in  the  loftiest  sense  of  the 
word.  I  imagined  that  I  comprehended  the  several  na- 
tures of  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  learned  and  the  igno- 
rant, the  righteous  and  the  vicious,  from  such  superficial 
observation,  —  not  yet  perceiving,  through  my  own  experi- 
ence, the  common  flesh  and  spirit  of  all  men. 

One  afternoon,  as  I  was  slowly  returning  towards  my 
lodgings  from  a  professional  inspection  of  a  new  church 
in  Sixth  Avenue,  I  was  struck  by  the  figure  of  a  woman, 
standing  at  the  corner  of  Bleecker  and  Sullivan  Streets. 
A  woman  of  the  laboring  class,  dressed  in  clean  but  faded 
calico,  —  leaning  against  the  area-railing  of  the  corner 
house,  with  a  weak,  helpless  appeal  expressing  itself  in  her 
attitude.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me  as  I  passed,  with 
a  steady,  imploring  gaze,  which  ran  through  me,  like  a 
palpable  benumbing  agency,  laming  my  feet  as  they  walked. 
Yet  she  said  nothing,  and  could  scarcely,  I  thought,  be  a 
beggar.  I  was  well  accustomed  to  the  arts  of  the  street- 
beggars,  and  usually  steeled  myself  (though  with  an  un- 
conquerable sense  of  my  own  inhumanity)  against  their 
appeals.  Now  and  then,  however,  I  met  with  one  whom 
I  could  not  escape.  There  was  a  young  fellow,  for  instance, 
with  both  his  legs  cut  off  at  the  thighs,  who  paddled  his 
way  around  the  Park  by  means  of  his  hands.  I  had  been 
told  that  he  was  in  good  circumstances,  having  received 
heavy  damages  from  the  Hudson  River  Railroad  Company ; 
but  I  could  not  stand  the  supplication  of  his  eyes  whenever 
we  met,  and  was  obliged  either  to  turn  my  head  away  or 
lose  two  shillings.  There  was  the  same  magnetism  in  this 
woman's  eyes,  and  before  I  crossed  the  street,  I  felt  myself 
impelled  to  turn  and  look  at  her  again. 

She  came  forward  instantly  as  I  did  so,  yet  not  so  rap- 
idly that  I  could  not  perceive  the  struggle  of  some  power 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  299 

ful  motive  with  her  natural  reluctancy.  I  stepped  back  to 
the  sidewalk. 

"  Oh,  sir ! "  said  she,  "  perhaps  you  could  help  a  poor 
woman." 

I  was  suspicious  of  my  own  sympathy,  and  answered 
coldly,  "  I  don't  know.  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"  It 's  the  rent,"  she  said.  ''  I  can  always  aim  my  own 
livin'  and  have  done  it,  and  the  rent  too,  all  to  this  last 
quarter,  when  I  }\e  been  so  ailin',  and  my  boy  gits  no  wages 
at  all.  If  I  don't  pay  it,  I  '11  be  turned  into  the  street  to- 
morrow. I  'm  no  beggar :  I  niver  thought  to  ha'  beseeched 
anybody  while  my  own  two  hands  held  out :  but  there  it  is, 
and  here  I  am,  and  if  it  was  n't  for  my  boy  I  would  n't  care 
how  soon  the  world  'd  come  to  an  end  for  me.  The  best 
things  was  pawned  to  pay  the  doctor,  only  my  weddin'-ring 
I  can't  let  go,  for  Hugh's  sake.  His  blessed  soul  would 
n't  be  satisfied,  if  I  was  buried  without  that  on  my  finger." 

She  was  crying  long  before  she  finished  speaking,  turn- 
ing the  thin  hoop  of  very  pale  gold  with  her  other  thumb 
and  finger,  and  then  clasping  her  hands  hard  together,  as 
if  with  an  instinctive  fear  that  somebody  might  snatch  it 
ofi°.  This  action  and  her  tears  melted  me  entirely  to  pity. 

"  How  much  must  you  ha  vre  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  It 's  a  whole  quarter's  rent  —  fifteen  dollars.  If  that 
was  paid,  though  I  'm  a  little  wake  yet,  I  could  wurrk  for 
the  two  of  us.  Could  you  help  me  to  it  any  way  ?  " 

••  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  It 's  jist  by  here  —  in  Gooseberry  Alley.  And  the 
Feenys  will  tell  you  it 's  ivery  word  true  I  've  said.  Andy, 
or  his  wife  aither,  was  willin'  enough  to  help  me,  but  she 
has  a  baby  not  a  week  old,  and.  they  've  need  of  ivery 
penny." 

She  turned,  with  a  quick,  eager  movement,  and  I  fol- 
lowed, without  any  further  question.  Gooseberry  Alley 
was  but  a  few  blocks  distant  It  was  a  close,  dirty  place, 
debouching  on  Sullivan  Street,  and  barely  wide  enough  for 


300  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

a  single  cart  to  be  backed  into.  The  houses  were  of  brick 
but  had  evidently  been  built  all  at  once,  and  in  such  a 
cheap  way  that  they  seemed  to  be  already  tumbling  down 
from  a  lack  of  cohesive  material.  A  multitude  of  young 
children  were  playing  with  potato  parings  or  stirring  up 
the  foul  gutter  in  the  centre  of  the  alley  with  rotting  cab- 
bage-stalks. I  remember  thinking  that  Nature  takes  great 
pains  to  multiply  the  low  types  of  our  race,  while  she  heed- 
lessly lets  the  highest  run  out.  A  very  disagreeable  smell, 
which  I  cannot  describe,  but  which  may  be  found  wherever 
the  poor  Irish  congregate,  filled  the  air.  That  alone  was 
misery  enough,  to  my  thinking. 

About  half-way  up  the  alley,  the  woman  entered  a  house 
on  the  right-hand,  saying,  "  It 's  a  poor  place,  sir,  for  the 
likes  of  you  to  come  into,  but  you  must  see  whether  I  spake 
the  truth." 

In  the  narrow  passage  the  floor  was  so  dirty  and  the 
walls  so  smutched  and  greasy  that  I  shuddered  and  held  the 
skirts  of  my  coat  close  to  my  sides  ;  but  when  we  had 
mounted  a  steep  flight  of  steps  and  entered  the  woman's 
own  apartment,  —  a  rear  projection  of  the  house,  —  there 
was  a  change  for  the  better.  The  first  room  was  a  bed- 
room, bare  and  with  the  least  possible  furniture,  but  com- 
fortably clean.  Beyond  this  there  was  a  smaller  room, 
which  seemed  to  be  a  combined  kitchen  and  laundry,  to 
judge  from  the  few  necessary  implements.  The  woman 
dusted  an  unpainted  wooden  stool  with  her  apron  and  gave 
it  to  me  for  a  seat 

"  My  boy  made  it,"  said  she ;  "  the  master  let  him  dc 
that  much,  but  it 's  little  time  he  gits  for  such  things." 

She  then  entered  into  an  explanation  of  her  circum- 
stances, from  which  I  learned  that  her  name  was  Marj 
Maloney ;  that  she  was  a  native  of  the  North  of  Ireland, 
and  had  emigrated  to  America  with  her  husband  ten  years 
before.  They  had  had  many  ups  and  downs,  even  while 
the  latter  lived.  T  suspected,  though  she  did  not  say  it 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  301 


that  he  was  a  reckless,  improvident  fellow,  whose 
independence  had  completed  his  ruin.  After  his  death,  sh« 
had  supported  herself  mostly  by  washing,  but  succeeded 
in  getting  her  boy,  Hugh,  admitted  as  an  apprentice  into  a 
large  upholstery  establishment,  and  might  have  laid  up  a 
little  in  the  Savings-Bank,  if  she  had  not  been  obliged  to 
feed  and  lodge  him  for  the  first  two  years,  only  one  of  which 
was  passed.  Hugh  was  a  good  boy,  she  said,  the  picture 
of  his  father,  and  she  thought  he  would  be  all  the  better 
for  having  a  steady  trade.  After  a  while  he  would  get 
wages,  and  be  able  to  keep  not  only  himself  but  her,  too. 
Would  I  go  into  Feeny's  —  the  front  rooms  on  the  same 
floor  —  and  ask  them  to  testify  to  her  carackter  ? 

I  did  not  need  any  corroborative  evidence  of  her  story. 
The  woman's  honesty  was  apparent  to  me,  in  her  simple, 
consistent  words,  in  her  homely,  worn  features  and  un- 
shrinking eyes,  and  in  the  utter  yet  decent  poverty  of  her 
dwelling.  I  determined  to  help  her,  —  but  there  were 
scarcely  five  dollars  in  my  pocket  and  fifteen  were  to  be 
paid  on  the  morrow.  It  was  drawing  near  to  Mrs.  De 
Peyster's  dinner-hour,  and  I  recollected  that  on  two  01 
three  occasions  small  collections  for  charitable  purposes 
had  been  taken  up  at  that  lady's  table.  I  therefore  deter- 
mined to  state  the  case,  and  ask  the  assistance  of  the  other 
boarders. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  I  said,  "  but  will  try  to  do  some 
thing  for  you.  Will  you  be  here  at  seven  o'clock  this 
evening?  " 

"  I  niver  go  out  o'  th'  evenin',  "  she  answered,  "  and  not 
often  o'  th'  day.  Hugh  '11  be  home  at  seven.  If  you  could 
only  lend  me  the  money,  sir,  —  I  don't  ask  you  to  give  it, 
—  I  'd  do  some  washin'  for  y'rself  or  y"r  family,  a  little  ivery 
wake,  to  pay  ye  back  ag*in." 

When  we  had  reached  a  proper  stage  of  the  dinner,  I  men- 
Joned  the  matter  to  Messrs.  Renwick  and  Blossom,  asking 
them  whether  they  and  the  other  gentlemen  would  be  will- 
ing to  contribute  towards  the  sum  required. 


302  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  You  are  satisfied  that  it  is  a  case  of  real  distress,  and 
the  money  is  actually  needed  ?  "  asked  the  latter. 
"  I  am  quite  sure  of  it." 
"  Then  here  are  two  dollars,  to  begin  with.     I  think  we 

'  O 

can  raise  the  whole  amount."  He  took  advantage  of  a  lull 
in  the  conversation  and  repeated  my  statement  to  the  com- 
pany. After  a  few  questions  which  I  was  able  to  answer, 
pocket-books  were  produced  and  note  after  note  passed 
down  the  table  to  me.  Upon  counting  them,  I  found  the 
sum  contributed  to  be  nineteen  dollars.  I  stated  this  fact, 
adding  it  was  more  than  was  required.  Some  one  an- 
swered, '"  So  much  the  better,  —  the  woman  will  have  four 
dollars  to  begin  the  next  quarter  with."  The  others  ac- 
quiesced, and  then  resumed  their  former  topics  of  conver- 
sation, satisfied  that  the  matter  was  now  settled.  I  was 
greatly  delighted  with  this  generous  response  to  my  appeal, 
and  began  to  wonder  whether  the  shallow,  superficial  inter- 
ests with  which  my  fellow-boarders  seemed  to  be  occupied, 
were  not,  after  all,  a  mere  matter  of  education.  They  had 
given,  in  a  careless,  indifferent  way,  it  was  true ;  but  then, 
they  had  given  and  not  withheld.  I  had  no  right  to  suppose 
that  their  sympathy  for  the  poor  widow  was  not  as  genuine 
as  my  own.  I  have  learned,  since  then,  that  this  noble 
irait  of  generosity  belongs  to  the  city  of  my  adoption. 
With  all  their  faults,  its  people  are  unstinted  givers ;  and 
no  appeal,  supported  by  responsible  authority,  is  ever  made 
to  them  in  vain. 

When  I  returned  to  Gooseberry  Alley  in  the  evening, 
L  found  Mary  Maloney  waiting  for  me  at  the  door,  her  face 
wild  and  pale  in  the  dim  street-light.  When  she  saw  me 
I  suppose  she  read  the  coming  relief  in  my  face,  for  she 
began  to  tremble,  retreating  into  the  dirty,  dark  passage  as 
she  whispered,  "  Come  up-stairs,  will  you,  plase  —  my  boy  'a 
at  home ! " 

An  ironing-board  was  laid  across  two  boxes  in  the  kitchea 
and  Hugh,  a  short,  stout  lad  of  seventeen,  was  ironing  a 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  308 

shirt  upon  it.  His  broad  face,  curly  red  hair,  and  thick 
neck  were  thoroughly  Irish,  but  his  features  had  already 
the  Bowery  expression,  —  swaggering,  impudent,  and  good 
humored.  His  bare  arms,  shining  milk-white  in  the  light 
of  the  single  tallow-candle,  showed  the  firmness  and  ful- 
ness of  the  growing  muscle.  The  picture  of  his  father 

—  his  mother  had  said.     I  did  not  doubt  it;   I  saw  al- 
ready  the   signs   of  inherited    appetites   which   only   the 
strictest  discipline  could  subdue.     He  stopped  in  his  work, 
as  we  entered,  looked  at  me,  then  at  his  mother,  and  some- 
thing of  her  anxiety  was  reflected  on  his  face.     I  even 
fancied  that  his  color  changed  as  he  waited  for  one  of  us 

O 

to  speak. 

In  the  interest  with  which  I  regarded  him,  I  had  almost 
forgotten  my  errand.  There  was  a  sudden  burning  smell, 
and  an  exclamation  from  Mrs.  Maloney.  — 

"  Hugh,  my  boy  —  look  what  y  're  a-doin' !  The  shirt,  — 
whativer  shall  I  do  if  y  've  burnt  a  hole  in  it  ?  " 

Hugh's  hand,  holding  the  iron,  had  rested,  in  his  suspense, 
fortunately  not  upon  the  shirt,  but  the  blanket  under  it, 
making  a  yellow,  elliptical  scorch.  lie  flung  down  the  iron 
before  the  little  grate,  and  said,  almost  fiercely  :  — 

"  Why  couldn  't  you  tell  me  at  once,  mother ! " 

"  I  have  the  money,  Mrs.  Maloney,"  I  answered  for  her, 

—  "  the  fifteen  dollars  and  a  little  more." 

"  I  knowed  you  'd  bring  it ! "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  what 
didn't  I  tell  you,  Hugh  ?  I  was  afeared  to  be  too  shure, 
but  somethin'  told  me  I  'd  be  helped.  Bless  God  we  '11  see 
good  times  yit,  though  they  've  been  so  long  a-comin' !  " 

The  tears  were  running  down  her  face,  as  she  tried  to 
gay  some  words  of  thanks.  Hugh's  eyes  were  moist, 
too;  he  darted  a  single  grateful  glance  at  me,  but  said 
nothing,  and  presently,  seating  himself  on  the  wooden 
stool,  began  to  whistle  "  Garryowen."  I  delivered  into 
Mrs.  Maloney's  hands  the  fifteen  dollars,  and  then  sever 
more  (having  added  three,  as  my  own  contribution)  for  an) 


304  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

additional  necessities.  I  explained  to  her  how  the  sum  had 
been  raised  as  a  free  and  willing  gift,  not  a  loan  to  be  re- 
paid by  painful  savings  from  her  scanty  earnings.  Then, 
beginning  to  look  upon  myself  as  a  benefactor,  I  added 
some  words  of  counsel  which  I  might  well  have  spared. 
With  a  more  sensitive  subject,  I  fancy  they  would  have  an- 
nulled any  feeling  of  obligation  towards  me  ;  but  Mary 
Maloney  was  too  sincerely  grateful  not  to  receive  them 
humbly  and  respectfully.  She  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
take  charge  of  my  washing,  which  I  agreed  to  give  her  on 
condition  that  I  should  pay  the  usual  rates.  Her  intention, 
however,  as  I  afterwards  discovered,  included  the  careful 
reparation  of  frayed  linen,  the  replacement  of  buttons,  and 
the  darning  of  stockings ;  and  in  this  way  my  virtue  was 
its  own  reward. 

I  turned  towards  Hugh,  in  whom,  also,  I  began  to  feel  a 
protecting  interest  After  a  little  hesitancy,  which  mostly 
originated  in  his  pride,  he  talked  freely  and  quite  intelli- 
gently about  his  trade.  It  was  a  large  establishment,  and 
they  did  work  for  a  great  many  rich  families.  After  an- 
other year,  he  would  get  five  dollars  a  week,  taking  one 
season  with  another.  He  liked  the  place,  although  they 
gave  him  the  roughest  and  heaviest  jobs,  he  being  stronger 
in  the  arms  than  any  of  the  other  boys.  He  could  read 
and  write  a  little,  he  said,  —  would  like  to  have  a  chance 
to  learn  more,  but  there  was  ironing  to  do  every  night 
He  had  to  help  his  mother  to  keep  her  customers ;  it  was 
n't  a  man's  work,  but  he  did  n't  mind  that,  at  all,  —  it 
«rent  a  little  ways  towards  paying  for  his  keep. 

Something  in  the  isolated  life  and  mutual  dependence  of 
this  poor  widow  and  son  reminded  me  of  my  own  boyish 
days.  For  the  first  time  in  many  months  I  spoke  of  my 
mother,  feeling  sure  that  the  humble  understandings  I  ad- 
dressed would  yet  appreciate  all  that  I  could  relate.  My 
heart  was  relieved  and  softened  as  I  spoke  of  mother's  self- 
denial,  of  her  secret  sufferings  and  her  tragic  death  ;  and 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  805 

Mary  Maloney,  though  she  only  said  "  Dear,  dear  ! "  took,  1 
was  sure,  every  word  into  her  heart  Hugh  listened  atten- 
tively, and  the  impudent,  precocious  expression  of  manhood 
vanished  entirely  from  his  face.  When  I  had  finished,  and 
rose  to  leave,  his  mother  said,  — 

"  I  must  ha'  felt  that  you  was  the  son  of  a  widow,  this 
afternoon,  when  I  set  eyes  on  ye.  Her  blessed  soul  is  satis 
fied  with  ye  this  night,  and  ye  don't  need  my  blessin',  but 
you  have  it  all  the  same.  Hugh  won't  forgit  ye,  neither, 
«rill  ye,  Hugh?" 

a  I  reckon  not,"  Hugh  answered,  rather  doggedly. 

I  had  a  better  evidence  of  the  fact,  however,  when 
Christmas  came.  He  found  his  way  to  my  room  before  I 
was  dressed,  and  with  an  air  half  sheepish,  half  defiant, 
laid  a  package  on  the  table,  saying,  — 

"  Mother  says  she  sends  you  a  Merry  Christmas,  and 
many  of  'em.  I  've  brought  an  upholstery  along  for  you. 
I  made  it  myself." 

I  shook  hands  and  thanked  him,  whereupon  he  said, 
"All  right ! "  and  retired.  On  opening  the  package,  I 
found  the  "  upholstery "  to  be  a  gigantic  hemispherical 
pincushion  of  scarlet  brocade,  set  in  a  gilt  octagonal  frame 
of  equal  massiveness.  A  number  of  new  pins,  rather  crook- 
edly forming  the  letters  "J.  G.,"  were  already  inserted  in 
it  It  was  almost  large  enough  for  a  footstool,  and  re- 
minded me  of  Hugh's  red  head  every  time  I  looked  at  it 
but  I  devoutly  gave  it  the  place  of  honor  on  my  toilet 
table. 

It  was  the  only  Christmas  gift  I  received  that  year. 


806  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    DINNER-PARTY   AT    DELMONICO's. 

I  SAW  very  little  of  Penrose  for  some  weeks  after  oui 
first  meeting.  He  was  much  occupied  with  his  arrange- 
ments for  entering  the  mercantile  firm  with  the  beginning 
of  the  coming  year,  and  these  arrangements  obliged  him 
to  revisit  Philadelphia  in  the  mean  time.  Matilda  —  or, 
rather,  Mr.  Edmund  Shanks  —  invited  me  to  dine  with 
them  at  the  St.  Nicholas,  but  pitched  upon  a  day  when  my 
duties  positively  prevented  my  acceptance  of  the  invita- 
tion. This  was  no  cause  of  regret,  for  I  was  not  drawn 
towards  my  cousin,  and  could  not  forgive  the  two  fingers  of 
her  husband.  For  Penrose  I  retained  much  of  the  old  at- 
tachment, but  his  nature  was  so  different  from  mine  that 
the  innermost  chamber  of  my  heart  remained  closed  at  his 
approach.  I  doubted  whether  it  ever  would  open. 

One  evening  in  December  he  called  upon  me  in  Bleeck- 
er  Street.  However  I  might  reason  against  his  haughti- 
ness, his  proud,  disdainful  air  when  he  was  absent,  one 
smile  from  those  superb  lips,  one  gentler  glance  from  those 
flashing  eyes  disarmed  me.  There  was  a  delicate  flattery, 
which  T  could  not  withstand,  in  the  fact  that  this  demigod  (in 
a  physical  sense),  with  his  air  of  conscious  power,  became 
human  for  me,  —  for  me,  alone,  of  all  his  acquaintances 
whom  I  knew,  laid  aside  his  mask.  Nothing  made  me  re- 
spect myself  so  much  as  the  knowledge  that  he  respected 
me. 

"  You  have  a  very  passable  den,  John,"  he  remarked, 
darting  a  quick,  keen  glance  around  my  room  ;  "  rather  a 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  307 

Contrast  to  our  bed  in  Dr.  Dyriond's  garret.  How  singu- 
larly things  turn  out,  to  be  sure  !  Which  of  us  would  hav€ 
suspected  this  that  night  when  the  Doctor  made  me  share 
sheets  with  you  ?  Yet,  I  had  a  notion  then  that  you  would 
be  mixed  up  somehow  with  my  life." 

"  You  were  very  careful  not  to  give  me  any  hint  of  it,' 
I  answered,  laughing. 

*'  I  was  right.  Even  if  you  are  sure  that  an  impression 
B  a  prophetic  instinct,  not  a  mere  whim,  it  is  best  to  wait 
until  it  proves  itself.  Then  you  are  safe,  in  either  case. 
There  is  no  such  element  of  weakness  as  superfluous  frank- 
ness. I  don't  mean  that  it  would  have  done  any  harm,  in 
our  case,  but  when  I  deliberately  give  myself  a  rule  I  like 
to  stick  to  it.  Only  one  man  in  a  hundred  will  suspect  that 
you  have  an  emotion  when  you  'don't  express  it.  You  are 
thus,  without  any  trouble,  master  of  the  ninety-nine,  and 
can  meet  the  hundredth  with  your  whole  strength." 

"Are  you  frank  now  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  John,"  said  he,  gravely,  "  don't,  I  beg  of  you,  play  at 
words  with  me.  I  will  confess  to  you  that  I  should  become 
morally  blase  if  I  could  not,  once  in  a  year  or  so,  be  utterly 
candid  with  somebody.  I  'm  glad  you  give  me  the  chance, 
and  if  I  recommend  my  rule  to  you,  don't  turn  it  against 
me.  You  are  not  the  innocent  boy  I  knew  in  Honeybrook, 
— I  can  see  that,  plainly,  — but  you  are  an  innocent  man, 
compared  with  myself.  I  hope  there  will  always  be  this 
difference  between  us." 

"  I  can't  promise  that,  Alexander,"  I  said,  "  but  I  will 
promise  that  there  shall  be  no  other  difference." 

He  took  my  hand,  gave  it  a  squeeze,  and  then,  resuming 
his  usual  careless  tone,  said,  "  By  the  bye,  I  must  not  for- 
get one  part  of  my  errand.  Shanks  is  to  give  a  little  din- 
ner at  Delmonico's  next  Saturday,  —  ten  or  a  dozen  persons 
jn  all.  —  and  he  wants  you  to  be  one  of  the  party.  Now, 
don't  look  so  blank  ;  /  want  you  to  come.  Matilda  has 
been  reading  your  book,  and  she  has  persuaded  Shanks 


308  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

(who  knows  no  more  about  poetry  than  he  does  about 
horses,  though  he  buys  both)  that  you  are  a  great  genius 
You  can  bother  him,  and  bring  him  to  your  feet  in  ten  sen- 
tences, if  you  choose.  The  dinner  will  be  something  su- 
perb, —  between  ourselves,  ten  dollars  par  convert,  without 
the  wine,  —  and  I  have  private  orders  from  Matilda  not  to 
accept  yo  ir  refusal,  on  any  pretext." 

I  frankly  told  Penrose  that  I  did  not  like  Shanks,  but 
would  accept  the  invitation,  if  he  insisted  upon  it,  rather 
than  appear  ungracious.  I  stipulated,  however,  that  we 
should  have  neighboring  seats,  if  possible. 

When  the  time  arrived,  I  took  an  omnibus  down  Broad- 
way, in  no  very  festive  humor.  I  anticipated  a  somewhat 
more  solemn  and  stiff  repetition  of  Mrs.  De  Peyster's  board 
and  its  flat,  flippant  conversation*  The  servant  conducted 
me  to  a  private  parlor  on  the  second  floor,  where  I  found 
the  host  and  most  of  the  guests  assembled.  Matilda  wel- 
comed me  very  cordially  as  "  Cousin  Godfrey,"  and  Shanks 
this  time  gave  me  his  whole  hand  with  an  air  of  deference 
which  I  did  not  believe  to  be  real.  Knowing  Matilda's 
critical  exactness,  I  had  taken  special  pains  to  comply  with 
the  utmost  requirements  of  custom,  in  the  matter  of  dress 
and  manners,  and  if  my  demeanor  was  a  little  more  stiff 
than  usual,  I  am  sure  that  was  no  disparagement  in  the  eyes 
of  the  others.  My  apprenticeship  at  Mrs.  De  Peyster's 
table  had  done  me  good  service  ;  I  could  see  by  Penrose 's 
eyes  that  I  acquitted  myself  creditably. 

The  remaining  guests  arrived  about  the  same  time.  We 
were  presented  to  each  other  with  becoming  formality,  and 
I  made  a  mechanical  effort  to  retain  the  names  I  heard,  for 
that  evening,  at  least  They  were  only  important  to  me 
for  the  occasion,  for  I  neither  expected  nor  cared  to  see 
any  of  them  again.  I  noticed  that  there  were  three  ladies 
besides  Matilda,  but  merely  glanced  at  them  indiflerentlj 
until  the  name  "  Miss  Haworth  "  arrested  my  attention 
Then  I  recollected  the  violet  eyes,  the  low  white  brow, 


JOHX  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  30? 

and  the  rippling  light-brown  hair.  Seeing  a  quick  recog 
lition  in  her  face,  I  bowed  and  said,  "  I  have  already  had 
the  pleasure,  I  believe." 

At  these  words,  a  gentleman  standing  near  her,  to  whom 
I  had  not  yet  been  introduced,  turned  and  looked  at  me 
either  sharply.  She  must  have  noticed  the  movement,  for 
she  said  to  me,  with  (I  thought)  a  slight  embarrassment  in 
her  tone.  "  My  brother,  Mr.  Floyd." 

Mr.  Floyd  bowed  stiffly,  without  offering  me  his  hand 
I  was  amazed  to  find  that  he  could  be  the  brother  of  Miss 
Haworth,  —  so  different,  not  only  in  name  but  in  feature 
I  looked  at  them  both  as  I  exchanged  the  usual  common- 
places of  an  incipient  acquaintance,  and  was  more  and  more 
convinced  that  there  could  be  no  relationship  between 
them.  His  face  struck  me  as  mean,  cunning,  and  sensual ; 
hers  frank,  pure,  and  noble.  It  was  a  different  type  efface 
from  that  of  any  woman  I  remembered,  yet  the  strong  im- 
pression of  having  once  seen  it  before  returned  to  my  mind. 
I  was  surprised  at  myself  for  having  paid  so  little  attention 
to  her  when  we  first  met  in  Mr.  Clarendon's  house. 

Though  her  voice  had  that  calm,  even  sweetness  which 
I  have  always  considered  to  be  the  most  attractive  quality 
in  woman,  it  was  not  in  the  least  like  Amanda  Bratton's. 
Hers  would  have  sounded  thin  and  hard  after  its  full,  melt- 
ing, tremulous  music.  It  belonged  as  naturally  to  the 
beauty  of  her  lips  as  tint  and  pearly  enamel  to  a  sea-shell. 
Her  quiet,  unobtrusive  air  was  allied  to  a  self-possession 
almost  beyond  her  years,  —  for  she  could  not  have  been 
more  than  twenty.  Though  richly  and  fashionably  dressed, 
she  had  chosen  soft,  neutral  colors,  without  a  glitter  or 
sparkle,  except  from  the  sapphires  in  her  ears  and  at  her 
throat  I  was  not  yet  competent  to  feel  a  very  enthusiastic 
tdmiration,  but  I  was  conscious  that  the  sight  of  her  filled 
me  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  comfort  and  repose. 

"  Isabel,"  said  Mrs.  Shanks,  tapping  Miss  Haworth*» 
shoulder  with  her  fan,  "  on  *  servi.  Will  you  take  Mr 
Godfrey's  arm  ?  " 


310  JOIIN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

I  bowed  and  crooked  my  elbow,  and  we  followed  th« 
other  ladies  into  the  adjoining  room.  The  touch  of  the 
gloved  hand  affected  me  singularly  ;  I  know  not  what  soft 
happy  warmth  diffused  itself  through  my  frame  from  that 
slight  point  of  contact  The  magnetism  of  physical  near 
ness  never  before  affected  me  so  delicately  yet  so  power- 
fully. 

Matilda  seated  the  guests  according  to  her  own  will,  and 
with  her  usual  tact  Her  brother's  future  partners  were 
her  own  supporters,  while  Shanks  was  flanked  by  their 
wives.  Miss  Haworth  was  assigned  to  the  central  seat  on 
one  side  of  the  oval  table,  between  Penrose  and  myself, 
with  Mr.  Floyd  and  two  other  young  fashionables  facing  us. 
The  table  was  resplendent  with  cut-glass  and  silver,  and 
fragrant  with  gorgeous  piles  of  tropical  flowers  and  fruit 
the  room  dazzling  with  the  white  lustre  of  gas,  and  the  ac- 
complished French  servants  glided  to  and  fro  with  stealthy 
elegance.  The  devil  of  Luxury  within  me  chuckled  and 
clapped  his  hands  with  delight  If  Life  would  furnish  me, 
with  more  such  dinners,  I  thought,  I  might  find  it  tolerably 
sunny. 

The  dinner  was  a  masterpiece  of  art  Both  the  natural 
harmonies  and  the  conventional  stipulations  were  respect- 
ed. We  had  oysters  and  Chablis,  turtle-soup  succeeded  by 
glasses  of  iced  punch,  fish  and  sherry,  and  Riidesheimer, 
Clicquot  Burgundy,  Lafitte,  and  liqueurs  in  their  proper 
succession,  accompanying  the  wondrous  alternation  of 
courses.  Hitherto,  I  had  been  rather  omniverous  in  my 
tastes,  —  only  preferring  good  things  to  bad,  —  but  now  I 
perceived  that  even  the  material  profession  of  cooking  had 
its  artistic  ideal. 

The  conversation,  as  was  meet  ran  mostly  upon  the 
dishes  which  were  placed  before  us.  Mr.  Shanks  devel- 
oped an  immense  amount  of  knowledge  in  this  direction, 
affirming  that  he  had  given  special  directions  for  a  single 
clove  of  garlic  to  be  laid  for  five  minutes  on  a  plate  witfc 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  811 

certain  coteleftes  en  papillotes,  under  a  glass  cover ;  that  the 
canvas-back  ducks  should  be  merely  carried  through  a  hot 
kitchen,  which  was  cooking  enough  for  them  ;  and  that  the 
riz  de  veau  would  have  been  ruined  if  he  had  not  procured, 
with  great  difficulty,  a  particular  kind  of  pea  which  only 
grew  in  the  neighborhood  of  Arras.  The  Lafitte,  he  said, 
was  "the  '34,  —  from  the  lower  part  of  the  hill;  Delmon- 
ico  won't  acknowledge  that  he  has  it,  unless  you  happen  to 
know,  and  even  then  it 's  a  great  favor  to  get  a  few  bot- 
tles." 

"  Many  persons  can't  tell  the  '34  from  the  '46,"  said  one 
of  the  partners,  setting  the  rim  of  his  glass  under  his  nos- 
trils and  sniffing  repeatedly ;  "  but  you  notice  the  difference 
in  the  bouquet." 

It  really  seemed  to  me  that  this  voluptuous  discussion 
of  the  viands  as  they  appeared,  —  this  preliminary  tasting, 
this  lingering  enjoyment  of  the  rare  and  peculiar  qualities, 
this  prelusive  aroma  of  the  vine,  tempering  yet  fixing  its 
flavor,  —  constituted  an  aesthetic  accompaniment  which  bal- 
anced the  physical  task  of  the  meal  and  called  upon  the 
brain  to  assist  the  stomach.  I  drank  but  sparingly  of  the 
wines,  however,  being  warned  by  the  growing  flush  on  the 
faces  of  the  three  young  gentlemen  opposite,  and  restrained 
by  the  sweet,  sober  freshness  of  Miss  Haworth's  cheek,  at 
my  side. 

As  the  conversation  grew  riotous  in  tone,  and  laughter 
and  repartee  (mostly  of  a  stupid  character,  but  answering 
the  purpose  as  well  as  the  genuine  article)  ruled  the  table, 
my  gentle  neighbor  seemed  to  encourage  my  attempts  to 
withdraw  from  the  noisy  circle  of  talk  and  establish  a  quiet 
tete  a  fete  between  our  two  selves.  Penrose  was  occupied 
with  one  of  his  partners  and  Matilda  with  the  other ;  Mr 
Floyd  was  relating  the  last  piece  of  scandal,  with  the  cor 
Actions  and  additions  of  his  neighbors,  and  each  and  all 
so  absorbed  m  their  several  subjects  that  we  were  left  in 
comparative  privacy. 


S12  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  Have  you  long  known  my  cousin,  Mrs.  Shanks  ? "  1 
asked. 

"  Only  familiarly  since  last  summer,  when  we  were  at 
Long  Branch  together.  We  had  met  before,  in  society 
once  or  twice,  but  one  never  makes  acquaintances  in  thaf 
way." 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  ever  say  that  we  are  truly  ac- 
quainted with  any  one  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  asked,  after  a  look  in  which  I  read  a 
little  surprise  at  the  question. 

I  felt  that  my  words  had  been  thrown  to  the  surface  from 
a  hidden  movement  of  dislike  to  the  society  present,  which 
lurked  at  the  bottom  of  my  mind.  They  shot  away  so  sud- 
denly and  widely  from  my  first  question  that  some  ex- 
planation was  necessary ;  yet  I  could  not  give  the  true  one. 
She  waited  for  my  answer,  and  I  was  compelled  to  a  partial 
candor. 

"  I  believe,"  I  said,  "  that  the  word  '  acquainted  '  put  the 
question  into  my  head.  I  have  been  obliged  to  reverse  my 
first  impressions  so  often  that  it  seems  better  not  to  trust 
them.  And  I  have  really  wondered  whether  men  can  truly 
know  each  other." 

"  Perhaps  nearly  as  well  as  they  can  know  themselves, 
said  she.     "  When  I  see  some  little  vanity,  which  is  plain 
to  every  one  except  its  possessor,  I  fancy  that  the  same 
thing  may  very  easily  be  true  of  myself." 

"  You,  Miss  Haworth  ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"  I  as  well  as  another.  You  do  not  suppose  that  I  con- 
sider myself  to  be  without  faults." 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  I  answered,  so  plumply  and  ear- 
nestly that  she  smiled,  looking  very  much  amused.  But 
the  fact  is,  I  had  made  a  personal  application  of  her  first 
remark,  and  answered  for  myself  rather  than  for  her.  Per- 
ceiving this,  I  could  not  help  smiling  in  turn. 

"  I  confess,"  I  said,  "  that  F  have  mine,  but  I  try  to  con- 
ceal them  from  others." 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  313 

u  And  you  would  be  very  angry  if  they  were  detected  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  would." 

"  Yet  all  your  friends  may  know  them,  nevertheless," 
said  she,  "  and  keep  silent  towards  you  as  you  towards  them. 
Do  you  think  universal  candor  would  be  any  better  ?  For 
my  part,  I  fancy  it  would  soon  set  us  all  together  by  the 
ears." 

"  Just  what  I  told  you,  John,"  said  Penrose,  striking  in 
from  the  other  side.  "  Candor  is  weakness." 

"  I  begin  to  think  so,  too,"  I  remarked  gloomily.  "  De- 
ceit seems  to  be  the  rule  of  the  world  ;  I  find  it  wherever 
I  turn.  If  the  outside  of  the  sepulchre  shows  the  conven- 
tional whitewash,  it  makes  no  difference  how  many  skele- 
tons are  inside." 

I  took  up  a  little  glass  toy  which  stood  before  me,  filled, 
apparently,  with  green  oil.  It  slid  down  my  throat  like  a 
fiery,  perfumed  snake. 

"  Penrose  !  "  cried  Mr.  Floyd,  "  is  that  the  Chartreuse  be- 
fore you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  former,  turning  the  bottle,  "  it  's  Cura- 


"  Ah,  that  reminds  me,"  —  cried  Mr.  Shanks,  commencing 
a  fresh  story,  which  I  did  not  care  to  hear.  The  old  feel- 
ing of  sadness  and  depression  began  to  steal  over  me,  and 
the  loud  gayety  of  the  table  became  more  hollow  and  dis- 
tasteful than  ever. 

"  Mr.  Godfrey,"  said  Miss  Haworth,  a  little  timidly. 

I  looked  up.  Her  clear  violet  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me 
with  a  disturbed  expression,  and  there  may  have  been,  for 
a  second,  a  wanner  tinge  on  her  cheek,  as  she  addressed 
me,  — 

"  I  am  afraid  you  misunderstood  me.  I  think  a  candid 
nature  is  the  highest  and  best  I  only  meant  that  there  is 
no  use  in  constantly  reminding  our  friends,  or  they  us,  of 
little  human  weaknesses.  We  may  be  candid,  certainly, 
without  ceasing  to  be  charitable." 


314  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  Yes,  we  may  be,"  I  said,  "  but  who  is  ?  Where  is>  there 
a  nature  which  may  be  relied  upon,  first  and  forever?  1 
once  thought  the  world  was  full  of  such,  but  I  am  cured  of 
my  folly." 

The  trouble  in  her  eyes  deepened.  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear 
you  say  so,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  began  mechanically 
pulling  to  pieces  a  bunch  of  grapes. 

My  bitter  mood  died  in  an  instant.  I  felt  that  my  words 
were  not  only  false  in  themselves,  but  false  as  the  utterance 
of  my  belief.  There  were,  there  must  be,  truth  and  honor 
in  men  and  women ;  I  was  true,  and  was  there  no  other 
virtue  in  the  world  than  mine  ?  I  could  have  bitten  my 
tongue  for  vexation.  To  retract  my  expressions  on  the 
spot,  —  and  I  now  perceived  how  positively  they  had  been 
made,  —  would  prove  me  to  be  a  whimsical  fool,  and  Miss 
Haworth  must  continue  to  believe  me  the  negatist  I  seemed. 
In  vain  I  tried  to  console  myself  with  the  thought  that  it 
made  no  difference.  A  deeper  instinct  told  me  that  it  did, 
—  that  the  opinion  of  a  pure-hearted  girl  was  not  a  thing 
to  be  lightly  esteemed.  I  had  flattered  myself  on  the  social 
tact  I  had  acquired,  but  my  first  serious  conversation  told 
me  what  a  bungler  I  still  was,  in  allowing  the  egotism  of 
a  private  disappointment  to  betray  itself  and  misrepresent 
my  nature  to  another. 

While  these  thoughts  flashed  through  my  mind,  Pen- 
rose  had  commenced  a  conversation  with  Miss  Haworth. 
Glancing  around  the  table,  I  encountered  Matilda's  dark 
eyes.  "  Cousin  Godfrey  !  "  she  called  to  me,  "  how  do  yoii 
vote  ?  —  shall  we  stay  or  go  ?  Edmund  always  sits  with 
his  head  in  a  cloud,  at  home,  and  very  often  Aleck  with 
him  ;  so  I  think  if  we  open  the  door  and  let  down  the  win- 
dows, the  atmosphere  will  be  endurable,  —  only  you  gen- 
tlemen generally  prefer  to  banish  us.  I  don  't  believe  it 's 
any  good  that  you  say  or  do  when  you  get  rid  of  us." 

"  Stay,"  said  I.  "  There  will  be  no  cloud  from  my  lips 
Why  should  you  not  keep  your  seats,  and  let  the  gentle- 
men withdraw,  if  there  must  be  a  division  ?  " 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  81£ 

u  Gallantly  spoken,  cousin.  But  I  see  that  Edmund  has 
jhe  consent  of  his  neighbors,  and  is  puffing  to  make  up  for 
lost  time.  I  congratulate  you  on  your  wives,  gentlemen : 
I  thought  I  was  the  only  veteran  present.  Isabel!  the} 
are  not  driving  you  away,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Miss  Haworth,  who  had  risen  from  her 
seat ;  "  but  father  is  home  from  the  Club  by  this  time,  and 
he  always  likes  to  have  a  little  music  before  going  to  bed, 
Tracy,  will  you  please  see  if  the  carriage  is  waiting  ?  " 

Mr.  Floyd  put  his  head  out  of  the  window  and  called, 
"  James  !  "  "  Here,  sir !  "  came  up  from  the  street,  and 
Miss  Haworth,  giving  a  hand  to  Matilda  and  her  husband, 
and  leaving  a  pleasant  "  Good-night ! "  for  the  rest  of  us, 
collectively,  glided  from  the  room.  Mr.  Shanks  escorted 
her  to  her  carriage. 

This  little  interruption  was  employed  by  the  company  as 
an  opportunity  to  change  their  places  at  the  table.  A  sign 
from  Matilda  called  me  to  an  empty  chair  beside  her. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  you  're  a  poet,  Cousin  Godfrey,"  she  said, 
—  "  the  first  in  our  family  ;  and  I  assure  you  we  have  need 
of  the  distinction  to  balance  the  mesalliance,  —  you  know 
all  about  it  from  Aleck,  though  you  're  not  near  enough 
related  to  be  hurt  by  it  as  we  were.  I  think  we  shall  come 
to  New  York  to  live :  Edmund  prefers  it,  and  one  gets 
tired  of  Philadelphia  in  the  long  run.  We  have  plenty  of 
style  there,  to  be  sure ;  but  our  set  is  very  much  the  same 
from  year  to  year.  Here,  it  may  be  a  little  too  free,  too  — 
qvH  est  ce  que  c'  est  ?  easy  of  entrance,  —  but  there  's  a  deal 
more  life  and  variety.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  but,  of  course, 
you  gentlemen  are  never  so  particular.  Society  would  fall 
into  ruin,  if  it  was  n't  for  us." 

"  It 's  very  well  you  save  society,  for  you  ruin  individu 
als,'  I  remarked. 

"  Hear  that,  Aleck  ! "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  I  did  n't  think  it 
was  in  him.  You  have  certainly  been  giving  him  lesson* 
hi  your  own  infidelity.  He  will  spoil  you,  Cousin  Godfrey.' 


116  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Penrose  looked  at  me  and  laughed.  "  I  'm  glad  you  are 
a  match  for  'Till,  John,"  he  said.  "  If  I  've  taught  you,  the 
pupil  surpasses  the  teacher." 

Much  more  of  this  badinage  followed.  My  apprentice- 
ship to  words  and  phrases  gave  me  an  advantage  in  the 
use  of  it,  and  I  was  reckless  enough  to  care  little  what  I 
said,  so  that  my  words  had  some  point  and  brilliancy. 
Penrose  was  more  than  a  match  for  me,  but  he  consider- 
ately held  back  and  allowed  me  to  triumph  over  the  others. 
It  was  as  he  predicted  ;  I  brought  Mr.  Edmund  Shanks  tc 
my  feet  in  ten  sentences.  He  called  me  "  Cousin  God- 
frey," and  said,  repeatedly,  in  a  somewhat  thick  voice,  "  If 
you  only  smoked,  you  would  be  a  trump." 

"  He  '11  come  to  that  after  a  while  ;  he  can't  have  all  the 
virtues  at  once,"  remarked  Mr.  Floyd.  I  liked  neither  the 
tone  nor  the  look  of  the  man  :  a  sneer  seemed  to  lurk 
under  his  light,  laughing  air.  He  was  one  of  the  two  or 
three  who  had  lighted  their  cigars,  and  substituted  brandy 
and  ice  for  the  soft,  fragrant  wines  of  Bordeaux.  A  sharp 
retort  rose  to  my  tongue,  but  I  held  it  back  from  an  instinct 
which  told  me  that  he  would  welcome  an  antagonism  /  had 
authorized. 

It  was  near  midnight  when  the  guests  separated,  and  as 
we  descended  in  a  body  to  the  street,  we  found  the  three 
coachmen  asleep  on  their  boxes. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  get  in,  Aleck  ?  "  said  Matilda,  as 
Penrose  slammed  the  door. 

"  No  ;  I  am  going  to  walk  with  Godfrey.    Good-night !  " 

Mr.  Floyd  joined  us,  smoking  his  cigar,  humming  opera- 
tunes  and  commenting  freely  upon  the  company,  as  we 
walked  up  Broadway.  When  we  reached  the  corner  of 
Howard  Street,  he  muttered  something  about  an  engage 
ment,  and  turned  off  to  the  left 

Penrose  laughed  as  he  gave  utterance  to  certain  sur- 
mises, in  what  seemed  to  me  a  very  cold-blooded  manner 
He  took  my  arm  as  he  added  :  "I  don't  kn  nv  that  Floyd 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  817 

is  any  worse  than  most  of  the  young  New  Yorkers;  but 
he 's  rather  a  bore  to  me,  and  I  'm  glad  to  get  rid  of  him. 
I  see  so  much  of  the  class  that  I  grow  tired  of  it,  —  yet  I 
suppose  I  belong  to  it  myself." 

"  Not  in  character,  Alexander ! "  I  protested :  "  you  have 
talent,  and  pride,  and  principle  !  " 

"  None  too  much  of  either,  unless  it  be  pride,"  he  said 
"Take  care  you  don't  overrate  me.  I  can  be  intenselj 
selfish,  and  you  may  discover  the  fact,  some  day.  What- 
ever I  demand  with  all  the  force  of  my  nature  I  must 
have,  and  will  trample  down  anything  and  anybody  that 
comes  between.  You  have  only  seen  the  mother's  blood 
in  me,  John.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  my  father's,  and  it  is 
bad." 

I  saw  the  dark  knitting  of  his  brows  in  the  lamplight, 
and  strove  to  turn  aside  the  gloomy  introversion  of  his 
mood.  4>  How  is  it,"  I  asked,  "  that  this  Floyd  is  a  brother 
of  Miss  Haworth  ?  " 

"  Step-brother,  by  marriage,"  he  answered  "  He  is  hi 
reality  no  relation.  Old  Floyd  was  a  widower  with  one 
son  when  he  married  the  widow  Haworth, — some  ten 
years  ago,  I  believe:  Matilda  knows  all  about  it,  —  and 
the  boy  and  girl  called  themselves  brother  and  sister. 
The  old  man  has  a  stylish  house  on  Gramercy  Park,  but 
he  's  an  inveterate  stock-jobber,  and  has  failed  twice  in  the 
last  five  years.  I  suspect  she  keeps  up  the  establishment" 

"  How  ? " 

"  She 's  an  heiress.  Two  thirds  of  her  father's  property 
were  settled  on  her,  —  some  hundreds  of  thousands,  I  've 
been  told.  No  wonder  Floyd  would  like  to  marry  her." 

"  He  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  That 's  the  gossip  ;  and  it  is  possible.  He  is  no  rela- 
tion, as  I  have  said,  but  I  fancy  she  has  a  mind  of  her  own. 
She  seems  to  be  a  nice,  sensible  girl.  What  do  you  think  ? 
You  saw  much  more  of  her  than  I  did." 

"  Sensible,  —  yes,"  said  I,  slowly,  for  I  had  in  fact  no* 


318  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

decided  what  I  thought  of  her,  —  "  so  far  as  I  could  judge , 
and  almost  beautiful.  But  her  face  puzzles  me  :  I  seem  to 
have  seen  it  already,  yet " 

Penrose  interrupted  me.  "  I  know  what  you  mean.  I 
saw  it,  also,  and  was  bothered  for  two  minutes.  The 
engraving  of  St  Agnes,  from  somebody's  picture,  in  Gou- 
pil's  window.  It  is  very  like  her.  Here  is  the  St.  Nicho- 
las ;  won't  you  come  in  ?  Then  good-night,  old  fellow,  and 
a  clear  head  to  you  in  the  morning  !  " 

Yes  ;  that  was  it !  I  remembered  the  picture,  and  as  I 
walked  homeward  alone,  along  the  echoing  pavement,  I 
murmured  to  myself,  — 

"  The  shadows  of  the  convent-towers 

Slant  down  the  snowy  sward, 
Still  creeping  with  the  creeping  hours 
That  lead  me  to  my  Lord." 

1  don't  know  what  strange,  poetic  whim  possessed  me: 
that  I  should  have  made  the  purchase  of  the  engraving 
my  first  business  on  Monday  morning. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  S1Q 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

CONTAINING,  AMONG  OTHER   THINGS,  MY  VISIT  TO    THE 
ICHNEUMON. 

AFTER  the  first  of  January,  Penrose  became  a  membei 
of  the  firm  of  Dunn,  Deering  &  Co.,  whose  tall  iron  ware- 
house on  Chambers  Street  is  known  to  everybody.  Having 
very  properly  determined  to  master  the  details  of  the  busi- 
ness at  the  start,  he  was  so  constantly  occupied  that  I  saw 
little  of  him  for  two  or  three  months  thereafter.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Shanks  lingered  still  a  few  weeks  before  returning  to 
Philadelphia,  but  their  time  was  mostly  devoted  to  up-town 
balls,  which  I  had  no  wish  to  attend,  although  Matilda  of- 
fered herself  as  godmother  of  my  social  baptism.  My  days 
and  the  greater  part  of  my  nights  were  appropriated,  and 
by  no  means  unpleasantly,  to  my  business  duties.  Little 
by  little,  I  found  my  style  increasing  in  point  and  fluency, 
and  the  subjects  assigned  to  my  pen  began  to  present  them- 
selves in  a  compact,  coherent  form.  I  was  proud  enough 
not  to  accept  an  increase  of  salary  without  endeavoring  tc 
render  adequate  service,  and  thus  the  exertions  I  made  re- 
warded themselves. 

In  my  case,  Schiller's  "  Occupation,  which  never  wearies 
—  which  slowly  creates,  and  destroys  nothing,"  was  a  help- 
ing and  protecting  principle,  —  how  helpful,  indeed,  I  was 
yet  to  learn.  I  had  been  wounded  too  deeply  to  wear 
painless  scar  ;  the  old  smart  came  back,  from  time  to  time 
to  torment  me,  —  but  my  life  was  much  more  cheerful  than 
I  could  have  anticipated.  My  affections  still  lacked  an 
object,  constantly  putting  forth  tendrilled  shoots  to  wither 
in  the  air,  but  my  intellectual  ambition  began  to  revive, 
though  in  a  soberer  form.  I  had  still  force  enough  to  con- 


320  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

trol  the  luxurious  cravings  of  my  physical  nature,  —  the 
thirst  for  all  the  enjoyments  of  sense,  which  increased  with 
my  maturing  blood.  When  I  coveted  wealth,  I  was  aware 
that  it  was  not  alone  for  the  sake  of  leisure  for  study  and 
opportunities  of  culture ;  it  was  for  the  wine  as  well  as  the 
bread  of  Life.  I  saw  that  velvet  made  a  pleasanter  sen: 
than  wood  ;  that  pheasants  tasted  better  than  pork  ;  that  a 
box  at  the  opera  was  preferable  to  leaning  out  of  a  garret- 
window  and  listening  to  Costa  diva  played  on  a  hand-oigan. 
—  in  short,  that  indulgence  of  every  kind  was  more  agree- 
able than  abstinence. 

I  know  that  many  good  people  will  draw  down  their 
brows  and  shake  their  heads  when  they  read  this  confes- 
sion. But  I  beg  them  to  remember  that  I  am  not  preach- 
ing, nor  even  moralizing  ;  I  am  simply  stating  the  facts  of 
my  life.  Nay,  the  fact,  I  am  sure,  of  most  lives  ;  for,  al- 
though I  do  not  claim  to  be  better,  I  steadfastly  protest 
against  being  considered  worse,  than  the  average  of  men. 
Therefore,  you  good  people,  whose  lips  overflow  with  pro- 
fessions of  duty  towards  your  fellow-beings,  and  the  beauty 
of  self-denial,  and  the  sin  of  indulgence,  look,  I  pray  you, 
into  your  own  hearts,  whether  there  be  no  root  of  the  old 
weed  remaining,  —  whether  some  natural  appetite  do  not, 
now  and  then,  still  send  up  a  green  shoot  which  it  costs 
you  some  trouble  to  cut  off,  —  before  weighing  my  youth  in 
your  balance.  It  is  no  part  of  my  plan  to  make  of  myself 
an  immaculate  hero  of  romance.  I  fear,  alas  !  that  I  am 
not  a  hero  in  any  sense.  I  have  touched  neither  the  deeps 
nor  the  heights  :  I  have  only  looked  down  into  the  one  and 
up  towards  the  other,  in  lesser  vibrations  on  either  side  of 
that  noteless  middle  line  which  most  men  travel  from  birth 
to  death. 

My  affection  for  Swansford  kept  alive  in  my  heart  a  faint 
but  vital  faith  in  the  existence  of  genuine  emotions.  I  saw 
him  once  a  week,  for  we  had  agreed  to  spend  our  Sunday 
afternoons  together,  alternately,  in  each  other's  rooms.  He 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  321 

still  disposed  of  an  occasional  song,  as  I  of  a  story,  but  his 
great  work  was  not  completed,  —  had  not  been  touched  for 
months,  he  informed  me.  He  was  subject  to  fits  of  pro- 
found dejection,  which,  I  suspected,  proceeded  from  a  phys- 
ical cause.  lie  was  decidedly  paler  and  thinner  than  when 
I  first  made  his  acquaintance.  The  drudgery  of  his  lessons 
frequently  rendered  him  impatient  and  irritable,  and  he 
was  anxious  to  procure  a  situation  as  organist,  which  would 
yield  enough  to  support  him  in  his  humble  way.  I  wanted 
to  bring  him  together  with  Penrose,  in  the  hope  that  the 
latter  might  be  able  to  assist  him,  but  feared  to  propose  a 
meeting  to  two  such  diverse  characters,  and,  up  to  this 
time,  accident  had  not  favored  my  plan. 

The  Friday  evening  receptions  of  Mrs.  Yorkton  —  I  beg 
pardon,  Adeliza  Choate  —  continued  to  be  given,  but  I  did 
not  often  attend  them.  I  had  been  fortunate  enough  to 
obtain  entrance  to  the  literary  soirees  of  another  lady  whom 
I  will  not  name,  but  whose  tact,  true  refinement  of  charac- 
ter, and  admirable  culture  drew  around  her  all  that  was 
best  in  letters  and  in  the  arts.  In  her  salons  I  saw  the  pos- 
sessors of  honored  and  illustrious  names ;  I  heard  books 
and  pictures  discussed  with  the  calm  discrimination  of  in- 
telligent criticism  ;  the  petty  vanities  and  jealousies  I  had 
hitherto  encountered  might  still  exist,  but  they  had  no 
voice  ;  and  I  soon  perceived  the  difference  between  those 
who  aspire  and  those  who  achieve.  Art,  I  saw,  has  its  own 
peculiar  microcosm,  —  its  born  nobles,  its  plodding,  consci- 
entious, respectable  middle-class,  and  its  clamorous,  fighting 
rabble.  To  whatever  class  I  might  belong,  I  could  not  shut 
my  eyes  to  the  existing  degrees,  and  much  of  my  respect 
for  the  coarse  assertion  of  Smithers,  the  petulant  conceit 
of  Danforth,  and  the  extravagant  inspiration  of  the  once 
adored  Adeliza  evaporated  in  the  contrast 

To  Brandagee  all  these  circles  seemed  to  be  open ;  yet 
I  could  not  help  noticing  that  he  preferred  those  where  his 
superior  experience  made  him  at  once  an  authority  and  a 
21 


322  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

fear.  The  rollicking  devil  in  him  was  impatient  of  restraint 
and  he  had  too  much  tact  to  let  it  loose  at  inopportune  times 
and  places.  I  sometimes  met  him  in  those  delightful  rooms 
which  no  author  or  artist  who  lived  in  New  York  at  that 
time  can  have  forgotten,  and  was  not  surprised  to  see  that, 
even  in  his  subdued  character,  he  still  inspired  a  covetable 
interest  He  now  came  to  the  Wonder  office  but  seldom. 
He  could  never  be  relied  upon  to  have  his  articles  ready 
at  the  appointed  time,  and  there  had  been  some  quarrel 
between  him  and  Mr.  Clarendon,  in  consequence  of  which 
he  transferred  his  services  to  the  Avenger.  I  had  become 
such  a  zealous  disciple  of  the  former  paper  that  I  looked 
apon  this  transfer  as  almost  involving  a  sacrifice  of  prin 
ciple.  Mr.  Clarendon,  however,  seemed  to  care  little  about 
it,  for  he  did  not  scruple  still  to  send  to  Brandagee  for  an 
article  on  some  special  subject 

He  had  at  one  time  a  scheme  for  publishing  a  small 
fashionable  daily,  to  be  devoted  to  the  opera  and  the  drama, 
artistic  and  literary  criticism,  the  turf,  dress,  and  other 
kindred  subjects ;  the  type  and  paper  to  be  of  the  utmost 
elegance,  and  the  contents  to  rival  in  epigrammatic  bril- 
liancy, boldness,  and  impertinence  the  best  productions  of 
the  Parisian  feuilletonistes.  Had  the  wealth  of  many  of 
the  New  York  families  been  any  index  of  their  culture,  tht 
scheme  might  have  succeeded,  but  it  was  too  hazardous  to 
entrap  any  publisher  of  sufficient  means.  He  then  deter- 
mined to  repeat  the  attempt  in  a  less  ambitious  form,  —  a 
weekly  paper  instead  of  a  daily,  —  which  would  involve 
little  preliminary  expense,  and  might  be  easily  dropped  if 
it  failed  to  meet  expectations.  It  was  to  be  called  k'  The  Oity 
Oracle"  and  to  bear  the  familiar  quotation  from  Shakspeare 
as  its  device.  I  had  heard  Brandagee  discuss  the  plan 
with  Mr.  Withering  (who  decidedly  objected  to  it,  very 
much  preferring  a  Quarterly  Review),  and  had  promised, 
incidentally,  to  contribute  a  sketch  for  the  first  number 
if  it  should  ever  make  its  appearance. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  328 

Towards  the  close  of  winter,  —  I  think  it  was  in  Feb- 
ruary, —  I  met  Brandagee  one  evening,  as  he  was  issuing 
from  the  Smithsonian,  cigar  in  mouth,  as  usual. 

"  Ha!  "  he  exclaimed;  "I  was  this  moment  thinking  of 
you.  You  have  nothing  to  do  at  this  hour,  —  come  around 
with  me  to  the  Ichneumon.  We  are  going  to  talk  over 
The  Oracle.  Babcock  has  as  good  as  promised  to  under- 
take the  publication." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  I.  "  When  will  you  begin  ?  " 
"•  The  first  number  ought  to  appear  within  ten  or  twelve 
days.  That  will  leave  me  three  weeks  of  the  opera  season, 
—  long  enough  to  make  a  sensation,  and  have  the  paper 
talked  about.  Notoriety  is  the  life  of  a  new  undertaking  of 
this  kind.  I  can  count  on  six  pens  already,  including  yours 
and  my  own.  In  fact,  I  could  do  the  whole  work  alone  on  a 
pinch  ;  though  I  don't  profess  to  be  equal  to  Souville.  You 
never  heard  of  Thersite  Souville,  I  dare  say :  he  wrote  the 
whole  of  Gargantua,  —  just  such  a  paper  as  I  intend  to 
make  my  Oracle,  —  editorials,  criticisms,  gossip  and  feuille- 
ton  ;  and  everybody  supposed  that  the  best  intellect  in  Paris 
was  employed  upon  it,  regardless  of  expense.  He  was  up 
to  any  style,  but  he  always  changed  his  beverage  with  his 
pen.  For  the  manner  of  Sue,  he  drank  hot  punch ;  for 
Dumas,  cider  mousseiix  ;  Gautier  or  De  Musset,  absinthe  ; 
Paul  de  Kock,  Strasburg  beer,  —  and  so  on.  It  was  a  great 
speculation  for  his  publisher,  who  cleared  a  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  francs  a  year,  one  third  of  which  was  Sou- 
ville's  share.  If  he  had  not  been  so  vain  as  to  blab  the 
secret,  he  might  have  kept  it  up  to  this  day.  Come  on  ; 
you'll  find  all  my  coadjutors  at  the  Ichneumon." 

"  Where  is  the  Ichneumon,"  I  asked,  "  and  what  is  it  ?  " 
"  Not  know  it !  You  are  a  green  Bohemian.  Close  at 
hand,  in  Crosby  Street  The  name  is  my  suggestion,  and 
I  'm  rather  proud  of  it.  When  the  landlord  —  Miles,  who 
used  to  be  bar-tender  at  the  '  Court  of  Appeals  '  —  took 
his  new  place,  he  was  puzzled  to  get  a  title,  as  all  the 


324         .OHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

classic  epithets.  Shades,  Pewter  Mugs.  Banks,  Houses  of 
Commons,  Nightingales,  Badgers,  and  Dolphins,  were  appro- 
priated by  others.  I  offered  to  give  him  a  stunning  name, 
in  consideration  of  occasional  free  drinks.  I  first  hit  on  the 
Ornithorhynchus  paradoxus,  which  was  capital;  but  Miles 
was  fool  enough  to  think  that  nobody  could  ever  pronounce 
or  remember  it.  Then  I  gave  him  the  Ichneumon,  with 
which  he  was  satisfied,  —  he,  as  well  as  all  Crosby  Street, 
calls  it '  Ike  Newman.'  I  've  persuaded  him  to  give  us  a 
backroom,  and  keep  a  bed  up-stairs  for  any  fellow  who  is 
boozy  or  belated.  We  shall  make  a  classic  place  of  it, 
and  if  the  Oracle  once  fairly  open  its  mouth,  the  croco- 
diles must  look  out  for  their  eggs ! " 

We  reached  the  house,  almost  before  he  had  done  speak- 
ing. It  was  an  old-fashioned  brick  dwelling,  the  lower  story 
of  which  had  been  altered  to  suit  the  requirements  of  the 
times.  An  octagonal  lantern,  on  the  front  glass  of  which 
an  animal  "  very  like  a  weasel "  was  painted,  hung  over 
the  door,  and  through  the  large  adjoining  window  there 
was  a  spectral  vision  of  a  bar  somewhere  in  the  shadowy 
depths  of  the  house. 

The  landlord  was  leaning  over  the  counter,  talking  to  a 
group  of  flashy  gents,  as  we  entered.  He  had  the  unmis- 
takable succulent  flesh  and  formless  mouth  of  an  English- 
man, but  with  his  hair  closely  cropped  behind,  and  the  back 
of  his  neck  shaved  in  a  straight  line  around  from  ear  to 
ear,  like  a  Bowery  boy. 

"  Miles,"  said  Brandagee,  "  another  of  us,  —  Mr.  God- 
frey." 

"  Y'r  most  obediei  t  —  'ope  to  see  you  often,"  said  Miles, 
rising  to  an  erect  posture  and  giving  me  his  hand. 

"Anybody  in  the  Cave,  Miles?" 

"  There  's  three  gents,  Mr.  Brandagee,  —  Smithers,  for 
one,  the  painter  chap,  and  the  heavy  gent." 

"  Come  on,  then.  Godfrey,"  said  Brandagee,  laughing 
"  It 's  Ponder  and  Smears.  I  '11  bet  a  thousand  ducats  Pon- 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES  32£ 

der  wants  to  help  us  out,  but,  between  you  and  me,  his 
didactics  would  be  a  millstone  around  our  necks.  I  '11  man- 
age him.  This  is  the  way  to  the  Cave  —  of  Trophonius. 
you  understand." 

He  entered  a  narrow  passage  on  the  right  of  the  bar, 
pushed  open  with  his  foot  a  door  at  the  further  end,  and 
we  found  ourselves  in  a  room  of  tolerable  size,  with  a  dense 
blue  atmosphere  which  threatened  to  eclipse  the  two  sickly 
gas-lights.  Smithers  had  untied  his  scarlet  cravat,  and, 
with  head  thrown  back  over  the  top  of  his  arm-chair,  suf- 
fered his  huge  meerschaum  pipe,  lazily  held  between  his 
teeth,  to  dangle  against  his  hairy  throat  Mr.  S.  Mears 
was  drawing  his  portrait  in  a  condition  of  classic  nudity,  on 
the  margin  of  a  newspaper,  with  the  end  of  a  burnt  match. 
Mr.  Ponder,  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  was  talking,  and 
evidently  in  as  heavy  a  style  as  he  wrote.  Both  the  latter 
were  smoking.  All  three  started  up  briskly  in  their  seats 
at  our  entrance. 

"  Ouf !  "  puffed  Brandagee,  with  an  expiration  of  delight 
M  "Well  done  !  This  reminds  me  of  the  salon  des  images,  as 
Frederic  Soulie  called  it,  in  the  rear  of  the  Cafe  Dore.  We 
used  to  hire  two  or  three  of  the  servants  to  smoke  in  it  for 
an  hour  before  our  arrival.  It  was  a  special  close  commu- 
nion of  our  own,  and  there  was  competition  to  get  admitted, 
though  few  could  stand  the  test  Cherubini  had  to  leave 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  as  for  Delacroix,  I  never  saw 
a  sicker  man.  Let  us  improve  this  atmosphere  before  the 
others  come.  Here,  Godfrey,  is  a  claro ;  don  't  be  afraid,  — 
you  must  commence  some  day." 

I  lighted  the  cigar,  and  made  a  feint  of  smoking  it  But 
I  never  could  acquire  any  liking  for  the  habit,  and  my  as- 
sociates, after  finding  that  I  always  spoiled  an  entire  cigar 
in  the  process  of  burning  half  an  inch,  finally  ceased  to 
waste  any  more  upon  me. 

"  Well.  Godfrey,"  said  Brandagee.  turning  to  me,  "  sine* 
you  are  to  be  one  of  us,  we  '11  take  your  iritiation  fee." 


326  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  What  shall  it  be  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  we  won't  be  hard  upon  you.  Beer  through  the 
evening,  with  a  modest  bowl  of  punch  as  a  stirrup-cup." 

He  rang  a  bell  as  he  spoke,  and  we  were  all  presently 
supplied  with  corpulent  mugs.  There  were  two  other  ar- 
rivals, —  one  a  reporter  of  the  Avenger,  the  other  a  young 
gentleman  who  had  a  clerkship  in  the  Custom-House  and 
wrote  for  the  magazines.  I  found  myself  more  at  home  in 
this  company  than  at  Mrs.  Yorkton's.  Though  there  was 
rather  a  repellant  absence  of  sentiment,  there  was,  at  least, 
nothing  of  the  mock  article.  Nobody  attempted  to  play  a 
part,  knowing  the  absurdity  of  wearing  a  mask  behind  the 
curtain,  and  suspecting  how  soon  it  would  be  torn  off,  if  at- 
tempted. Thus  the  conversation,  if  occasionally  coarse,  if 
unnecessarily  profane,  if  scoffing  and  depreciative  of  much 
that  I  knew  to  be  good  and  noble,  was  always  lively,  racy, 
and  entertaining.  I  surmised  that  my  associates  were  not 
the  best  of  men ;  but  then,  on  the  other  hand,  they  were 
not  bores. 

The  plan  of  the  Oracle  was  first  discussed.  Each  one, 
I  perceived,  was  quite  willing  to  dictate  the  best  possible 
programme  ;  but  Brandagee  steadily  kept  before  them  the 
fact  that  he  was  the  originator  of  the  idea,  and  would  resent 
dictation,  while  he  was  willing  to  receive  suggestions.  Be- 
sides, Babcock,  the  publisher,  had  not  yet  fully  committed 
himself,  and  it  all  might  end  in  smoke.  His  own  specialty 
of  musical  and  dramatic  criticism  was  an  understood  mat- 
ter ;  Hears  was  to  undertake  the  art  notices  ("  he  paints 
badly,  and  therefore  he  is  tolerably  sure  to  write  well." 
Brandagee  whispered  to  me)  ;  the  Avenger  reporter  was 
selected  to  prepare  the  city  gossip,  while  to  the  clerk  and 
myself  was  allotted  the  writing  of  short,  lively  stories  or 
sketches  of  character  for  the  first  page.  There  now  only 
remained  Smithers  and  Ponder  to  be  disposed  of.  The 
former  of  these  informed  us  that  he  was  willing  to  con- 
tribute passages  from  his  "  Kdda  of  the  Present,"  an  heroic. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  327 

muscular  poem,  in  irregular  metre  ;  and  the  latter  thought 
that  an  essay  on  "  The  Influence  of  Literature  upon  Na- 
tional Character  "  would  be  an  indispensable  feature  of  the 
new  journal. 

"  Not  in  the  first  number,"  replied  Brandagee  ;  "  t/ica 
must  be  all  foam  and  sparkle.  I  don't  contemplate  many 
heavy  articles  at  any  time.  It  might  do  for  Vienna.  When 
my  old  friend  Grillparzer  founded  his  light  Sonntagsblatt, 
—  something  like  the  Oracle  in  form,  —  he  began  with  arti- 
cles on  Hegel's  Philosophy,  the  Cretan-Doric  dialect,  the 
religion  of  the  Ostiaks  and  a  biography  of  Paracelsus.  Lo- 
cality makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world.  We  are  nearer 
the  latitude  of  Paris  than  any  other  capital,  and  there,  if 
anything  new  has  a  didactic  smell,  the  public  won't  touch 
it" 

"But  the  national  feeling"  —  commenced  Mr.  Ponder. 

"  Very  well  for  the  rural  districts  ;  I  don't  find  much  of 
it  here.  We  are  cosmopolitan,  which  is  better.  If  I  were 
beginning  in  Boston  I  would  give  you  eight  columns — four 
for  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  and  four  for  a  description  of  the 
Common,  as  viewed  from  Bunker  Hill  Monument ;  or  if  it 
were  Philadelphia,  you  should  write  a  solid  article,  setting 
forth  the  commercial  decline  of  New  York,  —  but  here  we 
care  for  nothing  which  does  not  bring  a  sensation  with  it 
We  are  not  provincial,  not  national,  not  jealous  of  oui 
neighbors  ;  we  live,  enjoy,  and  pay  roundly  in  order  to  be 
diverted.  The  Oracle  must  be  smart  pert,  hinting  what 
may  not  properly  be  said  outright  never  behind  with  the 
current  scandal,  and  brilliantly,  not  stupidly,  impudent 
With  these  qualities  it  can't  fail  to  be  a  success.  It  will 
be  a  tongue  which  hundreds  of  people  would  pay  well  to 
keep  from  wagging." 

"  The  devil !  "  exclaimed  Hears  ;  "  do  you  mean  to  make 
\  black-mail  concern  of  it  ?  " 

u  Don't  be  so  quick  on  the  trigger,  young  man  !  I  merely 
referred  to  the  power  which  we  should  hold.  A  thing  maj 


328  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

be  bid  for,  but  you  are  not  obliged  to  sell  it  In  the  wraj 
of  advertising,  however,  there  would  be  great  and  certaii 
profits ;  we  might  enter  into  competition  with  Napoleon  R 
Quigg,  or  Gouraud's  medicated  epic.  There  are  scores  of 
retail  dry-goods  merchants  who  would  give  fifty  dollars  a 
piece  to  have  their  establishments  mentioned  in  a  novel  ot 
a  play.  I  have  a  grand  scheme  for  raising  the  wind,  but 
I  won't  disclose  it  to  you  just  now." 

Our  mugs  were  replenished,  and  Brandagee,  who  seemed 
to  be  in  the  mood  for  a  harangue,  went  on  again. 

"  There  's  plenty  of  money  in  the  world,"  he  said,  "  if  it 
were  only  in  the  right  hands.  Of  all  forms  of  Superstition 
which  exist,  that  concerning  money  is  the  most  absurd. 
It  is  looked  upon  as  something  sacred,  —  something  above 
intellect,  humanity,  or  religion.  Yet  it  is  an  empty  form 
—  a  means  of  transfer,  being  nothing  in  itself —  like  the 
red  flame,  which  is  no  substance,  only  representing  the 
change  of  one  substance  into  another.  You  never  really 
possess  it  until  you  spend  it.  What  is  it  to  knowledge,  to 
the  results  of  experience,  or  the  insight  of  genius?  But 
you  come  to  me  for  advice  or  information  which  cannot  be 
bought  in  the  market,  —  the  value  of  which  gold  cannot 
represent ;  I  give  it  and  you  go  your  way.  Then  I  borrow 
a  hundred  dollars  from  your  useless  surplus  ;  you  oblige  me 
to  sign  a  note  payable  in  so  many  days,  and  consider  me 
dishonored  if  I  fail  to  meet  it !  Why  should  I  not  take  of 
your  matter  as  freely  as  you  of  my  spirit  ?  Why  should 
this  meanest  of  substances  be  elevated  to  such  mysterious 
reverence  ?  They  only  who  turn  it  to  the  enrichment  of 
their  lives  —  who  use  it  as  a  gardener  does  manure,  for  the 
sake  of  the  flowers  —  have  the  abstract  right  to  possess  it 
Jenkins  has  a  million,  but  never  buys  a  book  or  a  picture, 
does  n't  know  the  taste  of  Burgundy,  and  can't  tell  '  Yan- 
kee Doodle'  from  '//  mio  tesoro' — does  that  money  belong 
to  him  ?  No,  indeed,  —  it  is  mine,  ours,  everybody's  who 
understands  how  to  set  it  in  motion  and  bring  the  joy  and 
the  beauty  of  life  bubbling  up  to  the  surface  1 " 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  829 

'•  Bravo  !  "  cried  the  others,  evidently  more  than  half  in 
dined  to  be  of  the  same  way  of  thinking.  I  did  not  sup- 
pose that  Bnindagee  was  entirely  in  earnest,  but  I  was  fas 
cinated  by  the  novelty  of  hih  views,  and  unable,  at  the  time, 
to  detect  wherein  they  were  unsound. 

"  Do  you  know,  fellows,"  he  continued,  "  that  our  lives 
are  far  more  in  accordance  with  the  pervading  spirit  of 
Christianity  than  those  of  the  men. who  devote  themselves 
to  earning  and  hoarding  ?  We  are  expressly  commanded 
to  take  no  thought  for  the  morrow.  There  is  nowhere  in 
the  Bible  a  commendation  of  economy,  of  practical  talent, 
even  of  industry  in  a  secular  sense.  It  was  so  understood 
in  the  early  ages  of  Christianity,  and  the  devotees  who 
adopted  lazy  contemplation  as  a  profession  never  starved  to 
death.  Perhaps  they  lived  better  than  the  contemporary- 
men  of  business.  I  don't  mean  that  their  ways  would  suit 
us,  but  then  they  lived  out  their  own  idea,  and  that 's  all  we 
can  do.  Work,  and  the  worry  that  comes  with  it,  are  relics 
of  paganism.  The  stupid  masses  always  were,  and  will  be, 
pagans,  and  it  was  meant  that  they  should  labor  in  order  to 
give  leisure  to  what  little  intelligence  there  is  in  the  world. 
If  they  are  stiff-necked  and  rebellious,  I  hold  that  there  is 
no  particular  harm  in  using  our  superior  cunning  to  obtain 
what  justly  belongs  to  us.  Suppose  they  make  an  outcry  ? 
Of  course  they  look  at  the  subject  from  their,  which  is  the 
lower,  the  pagan  point  of  view.  Pagans,  you  are  aware, 
have  no  rights  which  elected  Christians  are  bound  to  re- 
spect" 

Brandagee  had  trenched,  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  on 
the  favorite  hobby  of  Smithers.  The  latter  began  to  pufl 
furiously  at  his  meerschaum,  now  and  then  snorting  the 
smoke  from  his  nostrils  in  long  blue  lines. 

"  It 's  a  bit  of  adroit  sophistry  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  These 
pagans,  as  you  call  them,  with  their  strong  bones,  their 
knotted  muscles,  their  thick  cerebellums  and  their  cast-iroE 
stomachs,  are  the  very  men  who  understand  how  to  use  life 


330  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

They  could  soon  crush  out  your  scanty  breed  of  forced  and 
over-refined  Epicureans,  if  they  cared  to  do  it:  you  should 
be  glad  that  they  suffer  you  to  exist  What  you  call  work 
is  only  the  sportive  overplus  of  their  colossal  energy.  If 
they  did  not  keep  alive  the  blood  of  the  race,  which  you 
are  trying  all  the  while  to  exhaust,  there  would  soon  be, 
not  only  an  end  of  Art  and  Literature,  but  an  end  of  Man 
on  this  planet !  " 

"  Smithers,"  said  Brandagee,  coolly,  "  if  you  would  take 
a  little  more  of  the  blood  that  circulates  in  your  big  body 
and  send  it  in  the  direction  of  your  brains,  you  would  see 
that  you  have  not  come  within  a  mile  of  meeting  my  asser- 
tion. I  take  you  as  my  living  verification.  You  like  work 
no  better  than  the  rest  of  us,  and  you  mix  with  your  steve- 
dores and  sailors  and  'longshoremen  only  to  exploit  them 
in  your  '  Edda.'  I  have  often  seen  you,  sitting  on  a  pier- 
head with  your  pipe  in  your  mouth,  but  I  don't  believe  that 
'  the  sportive  overplus  of  your  colossal  energy '  ever  incited 
you  to  handle  a  single  bale  or  barrel.  I  don't  object  to 
your  hobby :  it 's  a  good  one  to  ride,  so  far  as  the  public  is 
concerned,  but  we,  here  in  the  Cave,  understand  each  other, 
I  take  it" 

Smithers  began  to  grow  red  about  the  gills,  and  would 
have  resented  the  insinuation,  but  for  the  opportune  arrival 
of  Miles,  bearing  a  curiously-shaped  vessel  of  some  steam- 
ing liquid  and  fresh  glasses.  The  interest  which  these 
objects  excited  absorbed  the  subject  of  debate.  Mears 
threw  himself  into  a  statuesque  attitude  and  exclaimed  in  a 
Delphic  voice,  "  The  offering  is  accepted ;  "  while  Brauda- 
gee  chanted,  — 

"  Fill  the  cup  and  till  the  can, 
Have  a  rouse  before  the  morn," 

and  all  shoved  their  glasses  together  under  the  nose  of  the 
ladle. 

"  Here,  Godfrey,"  said  Brandagee,  striking  his  glass 
against  mine,  "  welcome  and  acceptance  from  the  mystic 


JOHX   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  331 

brotherhood !  Here  you  have  your  money,  as  I  was  ex 
plaining :  it  has  taken  form  at  Jast,  instead  of  lying,  as  a 
dry  idea,  in  the  pocket.  I  hold  that  we  have  the  right  to 
seize  on  shadows  wherever  we  find  them,  for  the  sake  of 
converting  them  into  substance.  Hence,  if  a  man  thinks  1 
am  taking  away  his  shadow,  in  the  Peter  Schlemihl  sense, 
let  him  apply  the  law  of  similia  similibits,  and  parting  with 
another  shadow  shall  give  him  peace  of  mind.  This  you, 
Jjmears,  would  call  levying  black-mail.  But  you  artists 
always  take  the  gross,  material  view  of  things,  — it  belongs 
to  you.  The  senses  of  Color  and  Form  are  not  intellectual 
qualities.  Never  mind,  I  mean  no  disparagement  The 
value  of  mind  is  that  it  teaches  us  how  to  make  the  right 
use  of  matter ;  so  we  all  come  back  to  the  same  starting- 
point." 

The  conversation  now  became  general  and  noisy,  and  I 
will  not  undertake  to  report  it  further.  In  fact,  I  have  but 
an  indistinct  recollection  of  what  followed,  except  that 
some  time  after  midnight  we  parted  affectionately  at  the 
corner  of  Spring  Street  and  Broadway.  The  next  morn- 
ing I  arose  heavy  in  head,  but  light  in  purse,  —  so  much 
lighter  that  I  suspect  the  punch-bowl  was  filled  more  than 
once  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 

Various  impediments  prevented  The  Oracle  from  ap- 
pearing before  the  close  of  the  opera  season,  and  the  plan 
was  therefore  suspended  until  the  next  fall.  But  the  Cave 
of  Trophonius  still  existed,  under  the  guardianship  of  the 
Ichneumon,  and  I  often  seized  an  hour  to  enjoy  .brget- 
fulness  of  the  present,  in  the  lawless  recklessness  cf  the 
utterance  to  which  it  was  dedicated. 


382  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IM    WHICH   I   TALK   WITH   TWO    GIRLS   AT   A    VERY   SOCI* 
BLE    PARTY. 

I  HAVE  said  that  I  still  felt  but  little  inclination  to  min- 
gle in  society,  although  I  might  easily  have  found  opportu- 
nities. I  fancy,  however,  that  this  reluctance  was  more 
imaginary  than  real :  it  belonged  to  the  soberer  role  which 
I  had  chosen  in  the  great  drama.  I  could  not  quite  justify 
my  participation  in  the  gayeties  of  the  season  to  that  spirit 
of  stern  indifference  which  I  ought,  logically,  to  have  pre- 
served. My  nature,  however,  was  not  so  profound  as  I 
supposed,  and  when  once  I  was  led  to  forget  myself  in  the 
presence  of  others,  I  speedily  developed  a  lively  capacity 
for  enjoyment  More  than  once  I  went  slowly  and  moodily 
to  a  scene,  whence  I  returned  with  buoyant,  dancing  spirits. 
Whenever  I  thought  of  Amanda  Bratton,  a  feeling  of  con- 
gratulation at  my  escape  tempered  the  bitterness  of  the 
memory,  and  I  began  to  believe  again  (hardly  admitting  to 
myself  thai  I  did  so)  in  the  purity  of  woman  and  the  honoi 
of  man. 

The  remembered  expression  of  Miss  Haworth's  eyes 
troubled  me,  and  I  longed  for  an  opportunity  of  presenting 
myself  to  her  in  a  more  correct  light.  It  was  some  time 
before  such  an  opportunity  occurred.  I  passed  her  once 
on  Broadway,  on  a  sunny  afternoon,  and  sometimes  saw 
her  through  the  window  of  a  carriage,  but  nearly  three 
months  elapsed  before  I  was  able  to  speak  to  her  again. 
Mr.  Deering,  with  whom  I  had  made  a  slight  acquaintance 
during  the  dinner  at  Delmonico's,  invited  me  to  call  "  very 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  338 

sociably"  at  his  house  in  Fourteenth  Street,  on  a  certain 
evening.  I  accepted,  mainly  because  I  expected  to  find 
Pen  rose  there,  and,  as  my  duties  required  me  to  leave 
early,  made  my  appearance  precisely  at  the  appointed  hour, 
fn  this  respect  I  was  misled  by  the  words  "  very  sociably," 
for  no  other  guests  had  yet  arrived,  and  the  rooms  were 
decorated  as  if  for  a  ball.  I  experienced  a  foolish  sensa- 
tion for  a  moment,  as  I  stood  alone  in  the  strong  light  of 
gas  and  the  glitter  of  gilding,  but  Mrs.  Deering  did  not 
leave  me  long  in  waiting.  With  her  entered,  to  my  sur- 
prise. Miss  Haworth. 

Mrs.  Deering  was  a  frail-looking  woman,  with  large  dark 
eyes,  and  pale,  melancholy,  interesting  face.  She  received 
me  with  perfect  grace,  and  a  kindly,  winning  air,  which 
seemed  —  I  knew  not  why  —  to  ask  for  sympathy.  At  any 
rate,  I  gave  it,  and  still  I  knew  not  why.  In  greeting  Miss 
Haworth  I  offered  her  my  hand,  forgetting  that  my  slight 
acquaintance  hardly  warranted  me  in  assuming  the  signs 
of  familiarity  ;  but  she  took  it  with  a  natural,  simple  cour- 
tesy, in  which  there  was  no  trace  of  mere  conventional 
politeness.  We  seated  ourselves  at  the  bottom  of  the 
apartment,  and  I  had  ample  time  to  overcome  the  first  for- 
mal stages  of  conversation  before  the  next  arrival.  The 
hostess  and  Miss  Haworth  \»ere  evidently  familiar,  if  not 
intimate  friends  ;  they  called  each  other  "  Fanny "  and 
"  Isabel,"  and  frequently  referred  to  mutual  experiences 
and  mutual  impressions.  I  saw  that  both  were  amiable, 
cultivated,  refined  women.  The  point  of  difference  seemed 
to  be  in  character  —  in  a  certain  gentle,  reliant,  hesitating 
quality  in  Mrs.  Deering,  and  its  latent  opposite  in  Miss 
Haworth  —  for  I  did  not  think  the  latter  old  enough  for 
marked  development.  Nevertheless,  through  all  her  maid- 
enly sweetness  and  simplicity.  I  felt  the  existence  of  a  firm, 
heroic  spirit.  Her  pure,  liquid  voice  could  under  no  cir- 
cumstances become  shrill  or  hard,  but  its  music  might  ex- 
press a  changeless  resolution.  Some  sense  within  me, 


334  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

underlying  the  surface  of  my  talk,  continually  contrasted 
her  with  Amanda  Bratton.  The  consciousness  of  it  an 
noyed  me,  but  I  could  not  escape  from  the  perverse  spirit. 

Finally,  Mrs.  Deering  rose  and  advanced  to  receive  the 
coming  guests,  and  we  were  left  alone.  My  thoughts  •went 
back  to  our  conversation  at  the  dinner,  and  I  longed  for  the 
tact  to  bring  it  up  naturally.  I  introduced  Matilda  Shanks, 
—  a  subject  soon  exhausted  ;  then  Penrose,  and  here  a 
happy  thought  came  to  my  aid.  I  had  become  not  only 
unembarrassed,  but  frank,  and,  almost  before  I  knew  it, 
had  described  the  manner  in  which  we  had  discovered  oui 
relationship. 

"  I  had  hardly  liked  him  before  that,"  I  said.  "  I  had 
thought  him  haughty,  cold,  and  almost  incapable  of  affec- 
tion —  but  this  was  only  the  outside.  He  was  truly  happy 
to  find  that  we  were  kin,  although  I  was  at  that  time  a  raw 
country-boy,  far  below  him  in  everything.  Since  then,  we 
have  learned  to  know  each  other  tolerably  well.  He  is  so 
handsome  that  I  am  very  glad  I  can  honestly  esteem  him." 

I  saw  a  light  like  a  smile  in  Miss  Haworth's  eyes,  but  it 
did  not  reach  her  lips.  "  He  t*  strikingly  handsome,"  she 
said,  "  but  it  is  not  a  face  that  one  can  read  easily." 

"  I  think  I  like  it  all  the  better  for  that,"  I  answered. 
"  It  keeps  up  one's  interest ;  there  are  so  many  surprises, 
as  you  discover  new  traits." 

"  If  they  were  always  agreeable  surprises." 

"  I  have  found  them  so,  in  his  case." 

"  You  are  fortunate,  then,"  said  she.  Her  tone  was  calru 
and  passionless,  and  I  detected  no  reason  for  my  suspicion 
that  she  did  not  like  Penrose.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  we 
had  changed  characters,  —  as  if  now  the  faith  were  on  my 
side  and  the .  distrust  on  hers.  I  presently  shook  off  this 
impression  as  absurd,  and  attempted  to  introduce  my  ex- 
planation before  the  new  guests  should  interrupt  us. 

"  I  think  my  cousin  frequently  does  injustice  to  himself," 
I  said.  "  He  is  fond  of  proclaiming  a  hard,  unsympathetic 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  335 

view  of  life,  which  does  not  correspond  with  his  practice. 
I  was  at  one  time  in  danger  of  imitating  him,  because  every- 
thing did  not  go  according  to  my  wishes.  I  can't  quite 
recall  the  words  I  used  in  my  talk  with  you  at  the  dinner," 
(this  was  false  —  I  knew  them  every  one,)  "  but  I  am  sure 
they  did  not  express  my  true  sentiments.  I  had  rather  be 
thought  inconsistent  than  cynical." 

"  So  would  I ! "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  merry  laugh. 
"  Consistency  is  a  jewel,  you  know,  but  the  color  of  it  don't 
happen  to  suit  my  complexion.  I  am  heterodox  enough  to 
dislike  the  word ;  to  me  it  signifies  something  excessively 
stiff,  prim,  and  tiresome." 

I  was  relieved,  but  a  little  surprised,  at  such  an  unex- 
pected latitude  of  opinion  in  Miss  Haworth. 

"  It  dates  from  my  school-days  in  Troy,"  she  continued, 
by  way  of  explanation.  "  Our  teacher  in  Moral  Philosophy 
had  a  habit  of  saying,  — '  Be  consistent,  girls ! '  on  every 
possible  occasion.  We  all  decided  that  if  she  was  an  ex- 
ample of  it,  consistency  was  a  disagreeable  quality,  and  I 
am  afraid  that  we  tried  to  get  rid  of  what  little  we  had, 
instead  of  cultivating  it  I  like  a  character  upon  which 
one  can  depend,  but  we  may  honestly  change  our  views." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  there  are  also  such  differences  in  our 
moods  of  feeling.  We  change  like  the  scenery  of  land  or 
sea,  through  green,  gray,  blue  and  gold,  according  to  the  sun 
and  the  clouds.  You  are  right;  the  same  tints  forever 
would  be  very  tiresome ;  but  we  should  not  half  possess 
our  opinions,  if  we  were  always  conscious  that  we  might 
soon  change  them  for  others." 

"  I  wish  Mrs.  Deering  had  heard  you  say  that.  We  were 
looking  at  a  new  dress  of  hers  just  before  you  came.  There 
was  a  mixture  of  colors  in  it,  which,  I  knew,  had  only 
caught  her  eye  by  its  novelty,  and  the  effect  would  soon 
wear  off.  But  when  I  said  so,  she  put  her  hand  on  my 
mouth,  and  pleaded,  — '  Please  don't  say  a  word  against  it ; 
let  me  like  it  as  long  as  I  can.'  I  laughed  and  called  hei 
a  child,  as  she  is  in  her  frankness  and  gentleness." 


386  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

'•  She  is  a  very  lovely  woman,"  I  said,  "  but  there  is  some 
thing  about  her  which  seems  to  call  for  help  or  sympathy 
I  do  not  understand  it." 

"  Is  it  so  palpable  ?  "  asked  Miss  Haworth,  in  a  low  voice, 
as  if  speaking  to  herself.  The  approach  of  other  guests 
interrupted  our  conversation,  and  I  had  no  chance  of  re- 
suming it  during  the  evening,  although  we  frequently  crossed 
each  other's  paths,  and  exchanged  a  few  words.  The  "  very 
sociable  "  entertainment  was  something  more  than  a  recep- 
tion and  something  less  than  a  ball.  Most  of  the  guests 
came  in  full  dress,  and  I  was  very  glad  that  I  had  profited 
by  a  hint  which  Brandagee  had  once  let  fall.  "  In  New 
York,"  said  he,  ''it  is  always  safer  to  over-dress  than  to 
under-dress.  The  former  is  looked  upon  as  a  compliment 
to  the  hosts,  and  no  excuse  is  ever  accepted  for  the  latter." 
The  young  ladies  were  all  decollete  es,  and  their  bright  heads 
rose  out  of  wonderful  folds  and  cloudy  convolutions  of  white 
mist,  which  followed  with  soft  rustling  noises  the  gliding 
swing  of  their  forms.  I  was  leaning  on  the  narrow  end  of 
the  grand  piano,  listlessly  watching  them  as  they  moved 
through  the  figures  of  a  quadrille,  when  Mrs.  Deering  sud- 
denly addressed  me  with,  — 

"  Don't  you  dance,  Mr.  Godfrey  ?  " 

"  Sometimes,"  I  answered  ;  "  but  I  think  I  enjoy  seeing 
dancing  even  more.  Somebody  says,  if  one  would  stop  his 
ears  and  shut  out  the  music,  one  would  find  the  movements 
of  the  dancers  simply  ridiculous.  I  can  imagine  that  this 
might  be  true  of  the  gentlemen,  —  but,  certainly,  not  of  the 
ladies." 

"  Are  we  so  much  more  graceful  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  I,  with  plump  sincerity  ;  "  it  is  rather  the  ad- 
vantage of  dress,  —  the  difference  between  drapery,  which 
falls  into  flowing  and  undulating  lines,  and  a  close  shell, 
like  that  of  a  tortoise.  Besides  the  shell  is  black,  which 
robs  it  of  light  and  shade.  Suppose  the  gentlemen  wore 
Roman  togas,  —  white,  with  a  border  of  purple,  or  blue  and 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  337 

nlver,  or  crimson  and  gold,  —  don't  you  think  the  effect 
would  be  immensely  improved  ?  " 

"  I  must  confess  the  idea  never  entered  my  head.  You 
must  give  me  time  to  think  about  it,  before  I  can  answer. 
It  is  something  new  to  hear  a  gentleman  speak  for  the 
beauty  of  his  sex  ;  we  are  generally  allowed  the  monopoly 
of  that." 

I  felt  embarrassed,  and  there  was  an  unpleasant  sense  of 
heat  in  my  face,  which  increased  as  I  encountered  3iiss 
Haworth's  laughing,  expectant  eyes.  She' was  standing  near, 
and  must  have  heard  the  whole  conversation. 

"  If  I  thought  myself  handsome,"  I  said,  at  last,  "  I 
should  never  lay  myself  open  to  such  a  charge ;  but  it  gives 
me  pleasure  to  see  beauty,  Mrs.  Deering,  whether  in  woman 
or  man,  and  I  do  not  understand  why  custom  requires  that 
one  sex  should  help  it  with  all  possible  accessories  and  the 
other  disguise  it." 

"  Oh,  you  men  don't  really  need  it,"  began  Mrs.  Deering. 
"  You  have  courage  and  energy  and  genius."  —  Here  she 
stopped,  turned  pale,  and  after  a  little  pause,  added  with  a 
gayety  not  altogether  natural ;  "  Shall  I  find  you  a  partner 
for  the  next  quadrille  ?  " 

I  assented,  thinking  of  Miss  Haworth,  but  Mr.  Deering 
came  up  at  that  moment  and  secured  her.  Mrs.  Deering 
laid  her  hand  on  my  arm,  and  we  began  to  thread  the  dis- 
entangling groups  as  the  music  ceased.  The  elegant  young 
gentlemen  were  already  dodging  to  and  fro,  and  taking  their 
places  in  anticipation  of  the  next  dance :  the  blooming, 
girlish  faces  were  snatched  away  as  we  approached  them 
and  Mrs.  Deering,  with  a  little  laugh  at  our  ill-fortune, 
said,  "  I  must  pick  out  the  best  of  the  wall-flowers,  after 
all,  —  ah !  here  is  one  chance  yet ! " 

A  moment  after,  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  —  Miss 
Levi! 

u  Mr.  Godfrey  wishes  for  the  pleasure,"  —  Mrs.  Deering 
began  to  say,  by  way  of  presentation  and  request. 


838  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

a  Now,  Mr.  Godfrey  ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Levi,  jumping  up 
and  giving  me  a  smart  rap  with  her  sandal-wood  fan,  —  "  you 
know  you  don't  deserve  it !  You  would  never  have  seen 
me  without  Mrs.  Deering's  help,  —  and  if  I  accept  you,  it 's 
for  her  sake  only.  He  's  as  false  and  heartless  as  he  can 
be,  Mrs.  Deering  ! " 

If  my  thought  had  been  expressed  in  words,  I  am  afraid 
there  would  have  been  a  profane  verb  before  Miss  Levi's 
name.  I  was  exasperated  by  the  unexpected  encounter, 
and  less  than  ever  disposed  to  hear  her  flippant,  affected 
chatter,  to  which  I  had  responded  so  often  that  I  was  power- 
less to  check  it  now.  As  we  took  our  places  on  the  floor, 
and  she  spread  the  scarlet  leaves  of  her  fan  over  the 
lower  part  of  her  face,  her  jet-black  eyes  and  hair  shining 
at  me  above  them,  I  thought  of  the  poppy-flower,  and  the 
dark,  devilish  spirit  of  the  drug  which  feeds  it.  I  tried  to 
shake  off  the  baleful,  narcotic  influence  which  streamed 
from  her,  and  which  seemed  to  increase  in  proportion  as  I 
resisted  it.  By  a  singular  chance,  Mr.  Deering  and  Miss 
Haworth  were  our  n's-a-t'is.  I  had  scarcely  noticed  this, 
when  the  preliminary  chords  of  the  quadrille  were  struck, 
and  the  first  figure  commenced. 

"  Confess  to  me,  now,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  said  Miss  Levi,  when 
our  turn  came  to  rest,  "  that  you  are  as  false  in  literature  as 
you  are  in  love.  You  have  not  been  at  Mrs.  Yorkton's  for 
ever  so  long." 

"  I  am  false  to  neither,"  I  answered,  desperately,  "  for  I 
believe  in  neither." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  become  afraid  of  you."  I  knew  her  eyes 
were  upon  my  face,  but  I  steadily  looked  away.  "  You  are 
getting  to  be  misanthropic,  —  Byronic.  Of  course  there 
is  a  cause  for  it  It  is  she  who  is  false ;  pardon  my  heartless 
jesting  ;  I  shall  never  do  so  again.  But  you  never  thought 
it  serious,  did  you  ?  I  always  believed  in  your  truth  as  I  do 
in  your  genius." 

The  last  sentences  were  uttered  in  a  low.  gentle,  confi- 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  839 

dential  tone,  and  the  fingers  that  lay  upon  my  arm  closed 
tenderly  around  it.  I  could  not  help  myself:  I  turned  my 
head  and  received  the  subdued,  sympathetic  light  of  the 
large  eyes. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Miss  Levi,"  I  said ;  "  there  is  no 
she '  in  the  case,  and  there  will  not  be." 

"  Never  ?  "  It  was  only  a  whisper,  but  I  despair  of  rep- 
resenting its  peculiar  intonation.  It  set  my  pulses  trem- 
bling with  a  mixture  of  sensations,  in  which  fear  was  pre- 
dominant I  dimly  felt  that  I  must  somehow  disguise  my 
true  nature  from  this  woman's  view,  or  become  her  slave. 
I  must  prevaricate,  lie,  —  anything  to  make  her  believe  me 
other  than  my  actual  self. 

The  commencement  of  the  second  figure  relieved  me 
from  the  necessity  of  answering  her  question.  When  we 
had  walked  through  it,  and  I  was  standing  beside  her,  she 
turned  to  me  and  said,  — 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  Well  ?  "  I  echoed. 

"  You  have:  not  answered  my  question." 

I  summoned  all  the  powers  of  dissimulation  I  possessed, 
looked  her  full  in  the  face  with  an  expression  of  innocence 
and  surprise,  and  answered,  "  What  question  ?  " 

Her  dark  brows  drew  together  for  an  instant,  and  a  rapid 
glance  hurled  itself  against  my  face,  as  if  determined  to 
probe  me.  I  bore  it  with  preternatural  composure,  and, 
finding  she  did  not  speak,  repeated,  "  What  question  ?  " 

She  turned  away,  unaware  that  something  very  like  a 
scowl  expressed  itself  on  her  profile,  and  muttered,  — 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence,  since  you  have  forgotten  it" 

My  success  emboldened  me  to  go  a  step  further,  and  not 
merely  defend  myself,  but  experiment  a  little  in  offensive 
tactics. 

"  Oh,  about  being  false  to  literature  ?  "  I  said.  "  You 
probably  thought  I  was  pledged  to  it  That  is  not  so : 
«rhat  I  have  done  has  been  merely  a  diversion.  Having 


340  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

attempted,  of  course  it  would  not  be  pleasant  to  fail ;  but 
there  is  no  great  satisfaction  in  success.  With  your  knowl- 
edge of  authors,  Miss  Levi,  you  must  be  aware  that  they 
cannot  be  called  either  a  happy  or  a  fortunate  class  of 
men ! " 

Again  she  scrutinized  my  face,  —  this  time  over  her  fan. 
I  was  wonderfully  calm  and  earnest :  there  is  no  hypocrisy 
equal  to  that  of  a  man  naturally  frank. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  true,"  she  answered,  at  last.  "  But 
there  are  some  exceptions,  and,  with  your  genius,  you  might 
be  one  of  them,  Mr.  Godfrey." 

"  If  my  '  genius,'  as  you  are  pleased  to  call  it,"  I  said, 
"  can  give  me  a  house  like  this,  and  large  deposits  in  the 
banks,  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  it.  I  should  much 
rather  have  splendor  than  renown  :  would  n't  you  ?  " 

Looking  across  the  floor  J  met  Miss  Haworth's  eyes,  and 
although  she  turned  them  away  at  once,  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  quiet,  serious  observance  with  which  they  had  rested 
upon  me.  I  rejoiced  that  she  could  not  have  heard  my 
words.  The  game  I  had  been  playing  suddenly  became 
distasteful.  Miss  Levi's  answer  showed  that  she  had  fallen 
into  the  snare  ;  that  her  enthusiasm  for  literature  and  liter- 
ary men  was  a  shallow  affectation,  which  I  might  easily 
have  developed  further,  but  I  took  advantage  of  the  move- 
ments of  the  dance  to  change  the  subject.  AVhen  the 
quadrille  was  finished,  I  conducted  her  to  a  seat,  bowed, 
and  left  her  almost  too  precipitately  for  courtesy. 

In  the  mean  time  Penrose  had  arrived.  I  had  not  seen 
him  for  some  weeks,  and  we  were  having  a  pleasant  talk  in 
a  corner  of  the  room  when  Mrs.  Deering,  in  her  arbitrary 
character  of  hostess,  interrupted  us,  by  claiming  him  for 
presentation  to  some  of  her  friends. 

"  The  partnership  is  social  as  well  as  commercial,  is  it  ?  " 
said  he.  "  Then  I  must  go,  John." 

An  imp  of  mischief  prompted  me  to  say  to  Mrs.  Deer- 
ing,  "  Introduce  him  to  Miss  Levi.  Dance  with  her,  if  you 


JOHN.  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  341 

san,  AJexander;  I  want  to  hear  your  impression  of  hei 
beauty." 

'•Oh,  ho!"  he  exclaimed,  "is  she  the  elected  one?  Bj 
all  means.  I  shall  try  to  find  her  bewitching,  for  your 
sake." 

"  Alexander  !  "  I  cried.  But  the  twain  were  already 
moving  away,  Mrs.  Deering  looking  back  to  me  with  a  gay. 
significant  smile.  I  was  provoked  at  myself,  and  at  Pen- 
rose.  I  had  honestly  wished,  for  my  own  satisfaction,  to 
subject  Miss  Levi  to  the  test  of  his  greater  knowledge  of 
the  world,  his  sharp,  merciless  dissection  of  character.  Per- 
haps I  thought  he  could  analyze  the  uncanny,  mysterious 
power  which  she  possessed.  But  the  interpretation  he  had 
put  upon  my  words  spoiled  the  plan.  And  Mrs.  Deering, 
I  feared,  had  accepted  that  interpretation  only  too  readily. 
Could  she  really  believe  that  I  was  attracted  towards  Miss 
Levi  ?  If  so,  and  she  mentioned  the  discovery  to  Miss 
Haworth,  what  must  the  latter  think  of  me  ?  She,  too,  had 
noticed  the  intimate  character  of  our  conversation  during 
the  dance ;  yet  she  could  not,  must  not  be  allowed  to  mis- 
understand me  so  shockingly.  I  worried  myself,  I  have  no 
doubt,  a  great  deal  more  than  was  necessary.  My  surmises 
involved  no  compliment  to  the  good  sense  of  the  two  ladies, 
and  the  excitement  they  occasioned  in  my  mind  was  incon- 
sistent with  the  character  I  had  determined  to  assume. 

I  looked  around  for  Miss  Haworth  before  leaving  the 
parlor.  She  was  seated  at  the  piano,  playing  one  of 
Strauss's  airy  waltzes,  while  the  plain,  weary-looking  gov- 
erness, who  had  been  performing  for  the  two  previous 
hours,  was  taking  a  rest  and  an  ice  on  the  sofa.  Among 
the  couples  which  revolved  past  me  were  Penrose  and  Miss 
Levi,  and  there  was  a  bright  expression  of  mischief  in  the 
former's  eye  as  it  met  mine. 

I  went  down  town  to  my  midnight  duties  in  the  office  of 
the  Wonder  very  much  dissatisfied  with  myself.  It  seemed 
that  I  had  stupidly  blundered  during  the  whole  evening, 


842  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

and  had  made  my  position  worse  than  it  was  before  in  the 
eyes  of  the  only  woman  whom  I  was  anxious  to  please.  The 
latter  fact  was  now  apparent  to  my  consciousness,  and  when 
I  asked  myself  "  Why  ?  "  there  was  no  difficulty  in  finding 
reasons.  She  was  handsome  ;  she  resembled  St.  Agnes  ;  I 
believed  her  to  be  a  pure,,  true,  noble-hearted  girl. 
Then  I  asked  myself  again,  "  Anything  more  ?  " 
And  as  I  stepped  over  the  booming  vaults,  in  which  the 
great  iron  presses  of  the  Wonder  revolved  at  the  rate 
of  twenty  thousand  copies  per  hour,  and  mounted  to  the 
stifling  room  where  the  reports  on  yellow  transfer-paper 
awaited  me,  I  shook  my  head  and  made  answer  unto  my- 
self, "No;  nothing  morel" 


JOHTT  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  343 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

WHICH    SHOWS   THAT   THERE    WAS   SOMETHING   MOKE. 

MY  ill-humor  extended  over  several  days,  and  even 
showed  itself  in  my  professional  duties.  I  don't  suppose 
that  the  blustering  March  weather  of  New  York  was  ever 
so  savagely  and  bitterly  described  as  in  some  of  my  articles 
at  that  time.  I  wrote  a  hideously  ironical  sonnet  to  Spring, 
which  some  country  editor  maliciously  copied,  side  by  side 
with  Bryant's  poem  on  "  March,"  bidding  his  readers  con- 
trast the  serene,  cheerful  philosophy  expressed  in  the 
lines,  — 

"  But  in  thy  sternest  frown  abides 
A  look  of  kindly  promise  yet —  " 

with  "  the  spleenful  growling  of  Mr.  J.  Godfrey,"  contempt- 
uously adding,  "  whoever  he  may  be." 

This  latter  castigation,  however,  came  back  to  me  at  a 
time  when  I  could  laugh  over  it,  and  acknowledge  that  it 
was  deserved.  It  was  not  long  before  the  fact  recurred  to 
my  mind  that  Custom  required  me  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Deer- 
ing,  and,  admitting  that  Custom  sometimes  makes  very  sen- 
sible and  convenient  arrangements,  I  consoled  myself  with 
the  prospect  of  soon  knowing  how  far  Penrose  had  impli- 
cated me. 

Mrs.  Deering  received  me  with  the  same  winning,  mel- 
ancholy grace,  which,  from  the  first,  had  inspired  me  with 
a  respectful  interest  We  conversed  for  some  time,  and, 
as  she  made  no  allusion  to  Miss  Levi,  I  was  obliged  to  in- 
troduce the  subject,  "  butt-end  foremost" 

"  I  saw  that  you  presented  Penrose  to  Miss  Levi,"  I  said 


344  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  Of  course  you  did  n't  believe  his  jesting,  when  I  asked 
you  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered,  with  a  smile  ;  "  I  am  accustomed 
to  that  sort  of  badinage  among  gentlemen.  There  was 
some  joking  about  it  afterwards  between  Mr.  Fenrose  and 
Miss  Haworth." 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  I  exclaimed,  quite  startled  out  of  my 
propriety ;  "  Miss  Haworth,  I  hope,  does  not  suppose  it  to 
be  true  ?  " 

Mrs.  Deering's  eyes  rested  on  my  face  a  moment,  with  a 
sweet,  gentle  interest.  "  I  do  not  think  she  does,"  she 
presently  remarked :  "  it  was  Mr.  Floyd,  her  step-brother, 
who  seemed  to  be  most  interested.  He  asked  Mr.  Penrose 
to  introduce  him  also  to  Miss  Levi." 

"  It  is  too  bad  !  "  I  cried,  in  great  vexation  :  "  what  shall 

'  O 

I  do  to  contradict  this  ridiculous  story  ?  " 

"  Pray  give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  Mr.  Godfrey.  I  will 
contradict  it  for  you,  should  I  hear  anything  of  it,  but  I 
really  imagine  that  it  has  already  been  forgotten." 

I  gave  her  grateful  thanks  and  took  my  leave,  somewhat 
comforted,  if  not  quieted  in  spirit. 

A  few  days  afterwards  I  received  a  little  note  from  hei 
inviting  me  to  tea.  I  wrote  a  line  of  acceptance  at  once,  and 
gladly,  surmising  that  she  had  something  to  tell  me,  —  feel- 
ing quite  sure,  at  least,  that  I  should  hear  of  Miss  Haworth. 
But  I  did  not  venture  to  anticipate  the  happiness  which 
awaited  me.  Miss  Haworth,  whether  by  accident  or  through 
Mrs.  Deering's  design,  was  present.  There  were  also  two 
or  three  other  guests,  who,  as  they  have  no  concern  with 
the  story  of  my  life,  need  not  be  particularized.  Before  we 
were  summoned  to  the  tea-table,  Mrs.  Deering  found  an 
opportunity  to  whisper  to  me,  — 

"  Make  yourself  quite  easy,  Mr.  Godfrey.  It  was  all 
taken  as  a  jest." 

I  knew  that  she  referred  to  Miss  Haworth,  and  felt  that 
any  reference  to  the  subject,  on  my  part,  would  be  unneo 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  34i 

essary.  I  was  at  once  reconciled  to  the  vexation  which  had 
procured  me  another  interview  with  her,  and  in  the  genial, 
unconstrained  atmosphere  of  the  small  company,  became 
my  own  frank,  light-hearted  self,  as  Nature  designed  me  to 
be  Our  acquaintance  ripened  apace :  we  conversed,  dur- 
ing the  evening,  on  books  and  music,  and  men  and  their 
ways,  developing,  not  always  accordant  views,  but  an  in- 
creasing freedom  in  the  utterance  of  them.  I  was  still  too 
ignorant  of  the  change  that  was  going  on  in  my  feelings  to 
be  timid  or  embarrassed  in  her  presence,  and  my  eyes  con- 
stantly sought  hers,  partly  because  I  was  absorbed  in  the 
beauty  of  their  dark-violet  hue,  and  partly  because  they 
never  shunned  my  gaze,  but  met  it  with  the  innocent  direct- 
ness of  a  nature  that  had  nothing  to  conceal.  Naturalists 
say  that  an  object  steadily  looked  at  in  a  strong  light,  pro- 
duces an  impression  upon  the  retina  which  remains  and  re- 
produces the  image  for  hours  afterwards.  I  am  sure  this 
is  true  ;  for  those  eyes,  that  rippled  golden  hair,  that  full, 
sweet  mouth  and  round,  half-dimpled  chin,  haunted  my 
vision  from  that  time  forth.  When  I  close  my  eyes,  I  can 
still  see  them. 

My  enjoyment  of  the  evening  would  have  been  perfect 
but  for  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Tracy  Floyd,  who  dropped 
in  at  a  late  hour  to  escort  his  step-sister  home.  We  were 
sitting  together,  a  little  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  company, 
when  he  entered,  and  I  could  see  that  his  face  assumed  no 
very  friendly  expression  as  he  noticed  the  fact  After  greet- 
ing the  hostess  and  the  other  guests,  he  turned  towards  us. 

"  Bell,  I  have  come  for  you,"  he  said.  "  Ah,  Mr.  God- 
frey, how  do  you  do  ?  Are  you  to  be  congratulated  ?  " 

"  No  ! "  I  exclaimed,  with  a  quick  sense  of  anger,  the 
expression  of  which  I  could  not  entirely  suppress. 

"  Very  complimentary  to  you,  Bell !  Rather  a  decided 
expression  of  distaste  for  your  society." 

"  That  was  not  what  you  meant,"  I  said,  looking  him 
steadily  in  the  eye. 


346  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

He  avoided  my  gaze,  laughed,  and  said  he  was  sorry  I 
did  n't  seem  to  understand  a  joke.  There  was  a  heightened 
color  in  Miss  Haworth's  face,  as  she  replied  to  a  previous 
remark  of  mine,  but  in  no  other  way  did  she  notice  what 
had  passed  between  her  step-brother  and  myself.  Pres- 
ently she  rose  to  accompany  him,  giving  me  her  hand 
frankly  and  kindly  as  she  said  good-night.  I  took  leave 
of  Mrs.  Deering  very  soon  after  her  departure. 

I  postponed  all  reflection  —  all  examination  of  the  con- 
fused, shining  sensations  which  filled  my  heart  —  until  my 
work  was  done,  and  I  could  stretch  myself  in  the  freedom 
and  freshness  of  my  bed.  There  was  too  much  agitation 
in  my  blood  for  sleep.  At  first  I  left  the  gas-burner  alight, 
that  I  might  see,  from  my  pillow,  the  picture  of  St.  Agnes 

—  but  presently  arose  and  turned  out  the  flame.    The  colon 
the  life,  and  spirit  of  the  face  in  my  memory  made  the  en- 
graving tame.     I  admitted  to  myself  the  joy  of  Isabel  Ha- 
worth's presence,  with  a  thrill  of  ecstasy,  which  betrayed  to 
me  at  once  towards  what  shore  this  new  current  was  set- 
ting.    At  first,  it  is  true,  there  was  an  intrusive  conscious- 
ness, not  precisely  of  inconstancy,  but  of  something  very 
like  it  —  of  shallow-heartedness,  in  so  soon  recovering  from 
a  hurt  which  I  had  considered  mortal ;  but  it  was  speedily 
lost  in  the  knowledge,  which  now  came  to  me,  of  the  growth 
of  my  nature  since  the  days  of  that  boyish  delusion.     I  sud- 
denly became  aware  of  the  difference  between  sentiment 
and  passion.     My  first  attachment  was  shy,  timid,  dreamy, 

—  shrinking  away  from  the  positive  aspects  of  life.     It 
flattered  my  vanity,  because  I  looked  upon  it  as  an  evidence 
of  manhood,  but  it  had  not  directly  braced  a  single  fibre  of 
my  heart.     This,  on  the  contrary,  filled  me,  through  and 
through,  with  a  sharp  tingle  of  power  :  it  dared  to  contem  • 
plate  every  form  of  its  realization  ;  were  its  blessing  but 
assured,  I  should  proudly  proclaim  it  to  the  world.     Its 
existence  once  recognized,  I  took  it  swiftly  into  every  cham- 
ber of  mv  being :  my  kindled  imagination  ran  far  in  ad 


JOHX  GODFREY'S   FORTU^S.  347 

ranee  of  the  primitive  stage  of  my  experience,  and  before 
I  fell  asleep  I  had  almost  persuaded  myself  that  the  fortune 
of  my  life  was  secured. 

I  have  said  but  little  of  Miss  Haworth,  because,  up  to 
this  time,  I  had  seen  so  little  of  her.  My  love  was  half 
instinct,  —  the  suspicion  of  a  noble  and  steadfast  character 
which  was  yet  unproved.  She  did  not  seem  to  be  consid- 
ered, in  society,  a  marked  beauty  ;  she  rather  evaded  than 
courted  observation,  —  but  I  felt  that  she  was  one  of  those 
women  whom  one  would  like  to  meet  more  frequently  in 
what  is  called  "  fashionable  "  society,  —  of  faultless  social 
culture,  yet  as  true  and  unspoiled  as  the  simplest  country 
maiden.  It  was  no  shame  to  love  her  without  the  hope  of 
return.  Indeed,  I  admitted  to  my  own  heart  that  I  had  no 
right  to  any  such  hope.  What  could  she  find  in  me  ?  — 
she,  to  whom  the  world  was  open,  who  doubtless  knew  so 
many  men  more  gifted  in  every  way  than  myself!  Never- 
theless, I  should  not  tamely  relinquish  my  claim.  I  might 
have  to  wait  for  a  long  time,  —  to  overcome  obstacles  which 
would  task  my  whole  strength, —  but  she  was  too  glorious  a 
prize  to  sit  down  and  sigh  for  while  another  carried  her  off. 

All  this  occurred  in  the  first  thrill  of  my  discovery.  I 
could  not  always  feel  so  courageous  ;  the  usual  fluctuations 
of  passion  came  to  cheer  or  depress  me.  I  could  only  de- 
pend on  seeing  her,  through  accidental  opportunities,  and 
my  employment  prevented  me  from  seeking  to  increase 
them.  Often,  indeed,  I  hurried  through  my  afternoon  du- 
ties in  order  to  prolong  my  walk  up  Broadway,  in  the  hope 
of  meeting  her,  but  this  fortune  happened  to  me  but  twice. 
One  evening,  however,  at  Wallack's,  a  little  incident  oc- 
curred which  kept  me  in  a  glow  for  weeks  afterwards.  Mi. 
Severn  had  given  me  two  of  the  complimentary  tickets  sent 
to  the  Wonder  office,  and  I  took  Swansford  with  me,  de- 
lighted with  the  chance  of  sharing  my  recreation  with  him, 
We  selected  seats  in  the  parquet,  not  too  near  the  brass  in- 
struments ;  his  ear  suffered  enough,  as  it  was,  from  the  lit 


348  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

tie  slips  and  false  notes  which  were  inaudible  to  me.  Look 
ing  around  the  boxes  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  my  heart 
gave  a  bound  on  seeing  Miss  Haworth,  in  company  with 
an  unknown  lady  and  gentleman.  She  wore  a  pale  lilac 
dress,  with  white  flowers  in  her  hair,  and  looked  unusually 
lovely.  They  were  conversing  cheerfully  together,  and  1 
could  study  the  perfect  self-possession  of  her  attitude,  the 
grace  of  her  slightest  movements,  without  being  observed. 

Having  made  this  discovery,  I  had  thenceforth  but  half 
an  eye  for  the  play.  My  seat,  fortunately,  was  nearly  on  a 
line  with  the  box  in  which  she  sat,  and  I  could  steal  a  glance 
by  very  slightly  turning  my  head.  Towards  the  close  of 
the  second  act,  an  interesting  situation  on  the  stage  ab 
sorbed  the  attention  of  the  audience,  and  feeling  myself 
secure,  I  gazed,  and  lost  myself  in  gazing.  The  intensit) 
of  my  look  seemed  to  draw  her  palpably  to  meet  it.  She 
slowly  turned  her  head,  and  her  eyes  fell  full  upon  mine. 
I  felt  a  sweet,  wonderful  heart-shock,  as  if  our  souls  had 
touched  and  recognized  each  other.  What  my  eyes  said  to 
her  I  could  not  guess,  —  nor  what  hers  said  to  me.  My 
lids  fell,  and  I  sat  a  moment  without  breathing.  When  I 
looked  up,  her  face  was  turned  again  towards  the  stage,  but 
a  soft  flush,  "  which  was  not  so  before,"  lingered  along  her 
cheek  and  throat 

I  might  have  visited  the  box  during  the  entr'acte,  but 
my  thoughts  had  not  yet  subsided  into  a  sufficiently  practi- 
cal channel.  The  play  closed  with  the  third  act,  and  at  its 
close  the  party  left.  Once  more  our  glances  met,  and  I  had 
sufficient  courage  to  bow  my  recognition,  which  she  re- 
turned. I  had  no  mind,  however,  to  wait  through  the  farce, 
and  hurried  off  Swansford,  who  was  evidently  surprised  at 
my  impatient,  excited  manner,  following  so  close  on  a  fit 
of  (for  me)  very  unusual  taciturnity.  I  answered  his  com- 
ments on  the  play  in  such  a  manner  that  he  exclaimed,  as 
we  reached  the  street,  — 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Godfrey  ?  You  don't 
«eem  to  have  your  senses  about  you  to-night." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.         349 

I  laughed.  "  I  am  either  the  blindest  of  bats,  the  stu- 
pidest of  owls,"  I  said,  "  or  my  senses  are  miraculously 
sharpened.  I  have  seen  either  all,  or  nothing,  —  but  no, 
it  must,  it  shall  be  all !  " 

J  caught  hold  of  Swansford's  arm  and  hurried  him  along 
with  me.  As  we  passed  a  corner  lamp-post,  he  looked  at 
my  face  in  the  light  with  a  puzzled,  suspicious  expression, 
which  moved  me  to  renewed  mirth.  He  was  as  far  as  pos- 
sible from  guessing  what  was  the  matter  with  me. 

"  Here  is  Bleecker  Street,"  said  I.  "  Come  up  to  my 
room,  old  fellow,  and  you  shall  judge  whether  I  am  a  fooi 
or  not" 

He  complied  mechanically,  and  we  were  presently  seated 
in  opposite  arm-chairs,  before  the  smouldering  grate.  I 
gave  him  a  glass  of  Sherry,  —  a  bottle  of  which  I  kept  on 
purpose  for  his  visits,  —  and  when  I  saw  that  he  looked  re- 
freshed and  comfortable,  began  my  story  in  an  abrupt,  in 
direct  way. 

"  Swansford,"  I  asked,  "  can  a  man  love  twice  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered  sadly,  after  a  pause, —  "  / 
could  not"  But  he  lifted  his  face  towards  me  with  a  quick, 
lively  interest  which  anticipated  my  confession. 

I  began  at  the  beginning,  and  gave  him  every  detail  of 
my  acquaintance  with  Miss  Haworth,  —  the  dinner  at  Del- 
mouico's,  the  glimpses  in  the  street,  the  "  very  sociable  " 
party  at  Mr.  Deering's,  the  invitation  to  tea,  and  finally  the 
meeting  of  our  eyes  that  very  evening.  There  was  no  shy- 
ness in  my  heart,  although  I  knew  that  the  future  might 
never  give  form  to  its  desires. 

"  That  is  all,"  I  concluded,  "  and  I  do  not  know  what  you 
may  think  of  it  Whether  or  not  I  am  fickle,  easily  im- 
pressed, or  deceived  in  my  own  nature,  in  all  other  re 
spects,  I  know  that  I  love  this  girl  with  every  power  of  my 
soul  and  every  pulse  of  my  body  !  " 

I  had  spoken  with  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  crimson  gulfs 
among  the  falling  coals,  and  without  pausing  long  e:iougb 


350  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FOBTUNES. 

for  interruption.  There  was  so  little  to  tell  that  I  mu>< 
give  it  all  together.  Swansford  did  not  immediately  an 
swer,  and  I  looked  towards  him.  He  was  leaning  forward, 
with  his  elbows  on  the  arms  of  the  chair  and  his  face  bur 
led  iu  his  hands.  His  hair  seemed  damp,  and  drops  ol 
perspiration  were  starting  on  his  pale  forehead.  A  mad 
fear  darted  through  my  mind,  and  I  cried  out,  — 

''  Swansford  !     Do  you  know  Miss  Haworth  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  in  a  faint,  hollow  voice,  "  I  never 
heard  her  name  before." 

His  fingers  gradually  crooked  themselves  until  the  ten- 
dons of  his  wrists  stood  out  like  cords.  Then,  straighten- 
ing his  back  firmly  in  the  chair,  he  seized  the  knobs  on  the 
ends  of  the  arms  and  appeared  to  be  bracing  himself  to 
speak. 

"  I  have  —  no  business  —  with  love,"  he  began,  slowly  ; 
"  you  should  not  come  to  me  for  judgment,  Godfrey.  I 
know  nothing  about  any  other  heart  than  my  own  ;  it  would 
be  better  if  I  knew  less  of  that  You  are  younger  than 
me  ;  there  is  thicker  blood  in  your  veins.  Some,  I  suppose, 
are  meant  to  be  happy,  and  God  grant  that  you  may  be  one 
of  them  !  I  am  not  surprised,  only  "  — 

He  smiled  feebly  and  stretched  out  his  hand,  which  I 
pressed  in  both  mine  with  a  feeling  of  infinite  pity. 

"  Give  me  another  glass  of  Sherry,"  he  said,  presently. 
tt  I  am  weaker  than  I  used  to  be.  I  think  one  genuine, 
positive  success  would  make  me  a  strong  man  ;  but  it 's 
weary  waiting  so  long,  and  the  prospect  no  brighter  from 
one  year's  end  to  another.  Is  it  not  inexplicable  that  I 
who  was  willing  to  sacrifice  to  Art  the  dearest  part  of  my 
destiny  as  a  Man,  should  be  robbed  of  both,  as  my  reward  ? 
If  I  had  my  life  to  begin  over  again,  I  would  try  selfish  as 
sertion  and  demand,  instead  of  patient  self-abnegation,  — 
but  it  is  now  too  late  to  change." 

These  expressions  drew  from  me  a  confession  of  the 
same  stages  of  protest  through  which  I  had  passed,  —  or 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  351 


rather,  was  still  passing,  —  for  the  rebellious  thoughts 
slumbered  in  my  heart  We  exchanged  confidences,  ar.d  1 
saw  that  while  Swansford  admitted  to  himself  the  force  of 
the  selfish  plea,  he  still  considered  it  with  reference  to  his 
art.  If  some  master  of  psychology  had  said  to  him,  "  Sin, 
and  the  result  will  be  a  symphony  !  "  I  believe  he  would 
have  deliberately  sinned.  If  Mendelssohn  had  murdered 
the  basso,  for  his  slovenly  singing  in  "  Elijah,"  he  would 
none  the  less  have  revered  Mendelssohn  as  a  saint  J 
did  not  know  enough  of  music  to  judge  of  Swansford's 
genius  ;  but  1  suspected,  from  his  want  of  success,  that  his 
mind  was  rather  sympathetic  than  creative.  If  so,  his  was 
the  saddest  of  fates.  I  would  not  have  added  to  its  dark- 
ness by  uttering  the  least  of  doubts  :  rather  I  would  have 
sacrificed  my  own  hopes  of  literary  fame  to  have  given 
hope  to  him. 

The  days  grew  long  and  sunny,  the  trees  budded  in  the 
city  squares,  and  the  snowy  magnolias  blossomed  in  the 
little  front-gardens  up  town.  Another  summer  was  not  far 
off,  and  my  mind  naturally  reverted  to  the  catastrophes  of 
the  past,  even  while  enjoying  the  brightness  of  the  present 
season.  No  word  from  Pennsylvania  had  reached  me  in 
the  mean  time,  and  I  rather  reproached  myself,  now,  for 
having  dropped  all  correspondence  with  Reading  or  Up- 
per Samaria.  The  firm  of  Woolley  and  Himpel,  I  had  no 
doubt,  still  flourished,  —  with  the  aid  of  my  money  ;  Rand 
and  his  Amanda  (I  could  not  help  wondering  whether  they 
were  happy)  probably  lived  in  the  same  city;  Dan  Yule 
was  married  to  the  schoolmistress;  and  Verbena  Cuff,  I 
hoped,  had  found  a  beau  who  was  not  afraid  of  courting. 
How  I  laughed,  not  only  at  that,  but  at  many  other  epi- 
sodes of  my  life  in  Upper  Samaria  !  Then  I  took  down 
u  Leonora's  Dream,  and  Other  Poems,"  for  the  first  time 
in  nearly  a  year.  This  was  the  climax  of  my  disgust  My 
first  sensation  was  one  of  simple  horror  at  its  crudities  ;  my 
second  one  of  gratitude  that  1  had  grown  sufficiently  to 
perceive  them. 


352  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

I  was  now  ambitious  of  culture  rather  than  fame.  I  sa* 
that,  without  the  former,  I  could  never  rise  above  a  subor- 
dinate place  in  literature,  —  possibly  no  higher  than  the 
sphere  represented  by  Mrs.  Yorkton  and  her  circle ;  with 
it,  I  might  truly  not  attain  a  shining  success,  but  I  should 
be  guarded  against  failure,  because  I  should  know  my 
talents  and  not  misapply  them.  The  thirst  for  acquiring 
overlaid,  for  a  time,  the  desire  for  producing.  After 
Wordsworth  I  read  Pope,  and  then  went  back  to  Chau 
cer,  intending  to  come  down  regularly  through  the  royal 
succession  of  English  authors;  but  the  character  of  my 
necessary  labors  prevented  me  from  adopting  any  fixed 
plan  of  study,  and,  as  usual,  I  deserved  more  credit  foi 
good  intentions  than  for  actual  performance. 

Only  once  more,  in  the  course  of  the  spring,  did  I  secure 
a  brief  Interview  with  Miss  Haworth.  During  the  Annual 
Exhibition  of  the  Academy  of  Design,  I  met  her  there, 
one  afternoon,  in  company  with  Mrs.  Deering.  It  was  a 
gusty  day,  and  the  rooms  were  not  crowded.  We  looked 
at  several  of  the  principal  pictures  together,  and  I  should 
have  prolonged  the  sweet  occupation  through  the  remain- 
ing hours  of  daylight,  had  not  the  ladies  been  obliged  to 
leave. 

"  Do  you  go  anywhere  this  summer  ? "  Mrs.  Deering 
asked. 

"  No  further  than  Coney  Island,"  I  said,  with  a  smile  at 
the  supposition  implied  by  her  remark  ;  "  a  trip  of  that 
length,  and  an  absence  of  six  hours,  is  all  the  holiday  I 
can  afford." 

"  Then  we  shall  not  see  you  again  until  next  fall.  Mr. 
Deering  has  taken  a  cottage  for  us  on  the  Sound,  and  Miss 
Haworth,  I  believe,  is  going  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  01 
somewhere  near  them.  Where  is  it,  Isabel  ?  " 

"  Only  to  Minnesota  and  Lake  Superior.  I  shall  accom- 
pany a  friend  who  goes  for  her  health,  and  we  shall  proba- 
bly  spend  the  whole  summer  in  that  region." 


JOHN    GODFREY'S    IOK1TXES.  353 

•*  How  I  wish  I  could  go ! "  I  exclaimed,  impetuously 
Then,  recollecting  myself,  I  added,  "  But  you  will  tell  me 
all  about  Minne-ha-ha  and  the  Pictured  Rocks,  will  you 
not  ?  May  I  call  upon  you  after  your  return  ?  " 

"  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Godfrey." 

I  held  her  hand  and  looked  in  her  eyes.  It  was  only  for 
a  moment,  yet  I  found  myself  growing  warm  and  giddy 
with  the  insane  desire  of  drawing  her  to  my  breast  and 
whispering,  "  I  love  you  !  I  love  you  !  " 

When  they  left  the  exhibition-room,  I  followed,  and  lean- 
ing over  the  railing,  watched  them  descending  the  stairs. 
At  the  bottom  of  the  first  flight  Miss  Haworth  dropped  her 
parasol,  turned  before  I  could  anticipate  the  movement,  and 
saw  me.  I  caught  a  repeated,  hesitating  gesture  of  fare- 
well, and  she  was  gone. 

Then  began  for  me  the  monotonous  life  of  summer  in 
the  city,  —  long  days  of  blazing  sunshine  and  fiery  radia- 
tions from  pavements  and  brick  walls,  —  nights  when  the 
air  seemed  to  wither  in  its  dead  sultriness,  until  thunder 
came  up  the  coast  and  boomed  over  the  roofs,  —  when 
theatres  are  shut,  and  fashionable  clergymen  are  in  Europe, 
and  oysters  are  out  of  season,  and  pen  and  brain  work  like 
an  ox  prodded  with  the  goad.  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  toler- 
ably happy  summer  to  me.  In  spite  of  my  natural  impa- 
tience, I  felt  that  my  acquaintance  with  Miss  Haworth  had 
progressed  as  rapidly  as  was  consistent  with  the  prospect 
of  its  fortunate  development.  If  it  was  destined  that  she 
should  return  my  love,  the  first  premonitions  of  its  exist- 
ence must  have  already  reached  her  heart.  She  was  too 
clear-sighted  to  overlook  the  signs  I  had  given. 

There  was  one  circumstance,  however,  which  often  dis- 
turbed me.  She  was  an  heiress,  —  worth  hundreds  of 
thousands,  Penrose  had  said,  —  and  I  a  poor  young  man, 
earning,  by  steady  labor,  little  more  than  was  necessary  for 
my  support.  While  I  admitted,  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  the 
insignificance  of  this  consideration  to  the  pure  eyes  of  love, 
23 


354  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

[  could  not  escape  the  conventional  view  of  the  case.  Mj 
position  was  a  mercenary  one,  and  no  amount  of  sincerity 
or  fidelity  could  wash  me  clear  of  suspicion.  Besides,  it 
reversed  what  seemed  to  me  the  truest  and  tenderest  rela- 
tion between  man  and  woman.  If  I  won  her  heart,  I 
should  be  dependent  on  her  wealth,  not  she  upon  my 
industry  and  energy.  For  her  sake,  I  could  not  wish  that 
wealth  less  :  she  was  probably  accustomed  to  the  habits 
and  tastes  it  made  possible ;  but  it  deprived  me  of  the 
least  chance  of  proving  how  honest  and  unselfish  was  my 
devotion.  All  appearances  were  against  me,  and  if  she 
did  not  trust  me  sufficiently  to  believe  my  simple  word,  I 
was  lost.  This  was  a  trouble  which  I  could  not  lighten  by 
imparting  it  to  any  one,  —  not  even  Swansford.  I  carried 
it  about  secretly  with  me,  taking  it  out  now  and  then  to 
perplex  myself  with  the  search  of  a  solution  which  might 
satisfy  all  parties,  —  her,  myself,  and  the  world. 

The  summer  passed  away,  and  the  cool  September  nights 
brought  relief  to  the  city.  One  by  one  the  languid  inhab- 
itants of  brown-stone  fronts  came  back  with  strength  from 
the  hills,  or  a  fresh,  salty  tang  from  the  sea-shore.  The 
theatres  were  opened,  oysters  reappeared  without  chol- 
era, and  the  business-streets  below  the  Park  were  crowded 
with  Western  and  Southern  merchants.  The  day  drew 
nigh  when  I  should  again  see  my  beloved,  and  my  heart 
throbbed  with  a  firmer  and  more  hopeful  pulsation. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  866 


CHAPTER  XXVm. 

WHICH    GIVES   AN    ACCOUNT    OF    A    FIRE    AND    WHAT    FOL 
LOWED    IT. 

DURING  the  summer  of  which  I  am  writing,  there  was 
an  unusual  demand  for  short,  sketchy  articles,  moral  in  ten- 
dency, but  without  the  dulness  of  moral  essays.  They  were 
weak  concoctions  of  flashy,  superficial  philosophy,  generally 
starting  from  the  text  of  some  trivial  incident,  and  made 
piquant  with  a  delicate  flavor  of  slang.  The  school  exists 
to  this  day,  and  may  be  found,  in  the  hectic  of  its  com- 
mencing decline,  in  the  columns  of  certain  magazines  and 
literary  newspapers.  In  the  days  of  its  youth,  it  possessed 
an  air  of  originality  which  deceived  ninety-nine  out  of  every 
hundred  readers,  and  thus  became  immensely  popular.  The 
demand,  increased  by  the  emulation  of  rival  publishers,  and 
accompanied  by  fabulous  remuneration  (if  the  advertisements 
were  true),  soon  created  a  corresponding  supply,  and  the 
number  of  Montaignes  and  Montaignesses  who  arose  among 
us  will  be  a  marvel  to  the  literary  historian  of  the  next 
century. 

My  practice  in  what  the  foreman  of  the  Wonder  com- 
posing-room called  "fancy  city  articles,"  enabled  me  to 
profit  at  once  by  this  new  whirl  in  the  literary  current  My 
sketches,  entitled  "  The  Omnibus  Horse,"  "  Any  Thing  on 
This  Board  for  Four  Cents,"  and  "  Don't  Jump ! "  (the  latter 
suggested  by  the  Jersey  City  Ferry,)  had  already  been  ex- 
tensively copied,  and  when  Mr.  G.  Jenks,  —  rising  presently 
to  his  feet  after  the  failure  of  "  The  Hesperian,"  as  publisher 
of  The  Ship  of  the  Line,  an  illustrated  weekly,  in  which  the 


356  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

same  head  did  duty  as  Gen.  Cass,  Pius  IX.,  and  the  inventor 
of  the  Air-Tight  Stove,  —  when  Mr.  Jenks,  I  say,  occupied 
another  back-office,  and  badgered  new  aspirants  for  publicity 
with,  "  What 's  the  handle  to  your  Brown  ?  —  or  Jones  ?  "  — 
he  summoned  me  to  his  presence  and  graciously  offered  me 
five  dollars  for  a  weekly  sketch  of  the  popular  kind,  not  to 
exceed  half  a  column  in  length. 

"  Not  too  moral,"  he  added,  by  way  of  caution,  "  though 
they  must  lean  that  way.  If  you  can  make  'em  a  little  racy; 
—  you  understand,  —  but  not  so  that  it  can  be  taken  hold 
of,  they  '11  go  all  the  better.  There  's  that  book,  •  Pepper 
Pot,'  for  instance,  sold  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  copies 
in  six  months,  —  puffed  in  all  the  religious  papers,  —  would 
have  been  a  fortune  to  me." 

I  naturally  rebelled  against  this  sort  of  dictation,  but 
having  encountered  it  wherever  I  turned,  I  supposed  that 
it  was  a  universal  habit  of  publishers,  and  must  of  necessity 
be  endured.  The  articles  required  could  be  easily  enough 
produced,  and  the  fee,  small  as  it  was,  might  accumulate  to 
a  respectable  little  sum  if  laid  aside,  week  by  week,  with 
whatever  else  I  could  spare.  I  therefore  accepted  the  offer, 
and  was  laughed  at  by  Brandagee  for  not  having  asked 
twenty  dollars. 

"  If  you  want  to  be  valued,"  said  he,  "  you  must  be  your 
own  appraiser.  Taking  what 's  offered  is  admitting  that 
you  're  only  worth  so  much.  There  was  Fleurot,  —  I  knew 
him  when  he  had  but  one  shirt,  and  washed  it  with  his  own 
hands  every  night,  but  he  would  n't  take  a  centime  less  than 
five  thousand  francs  for  the  picture  on  his  easel,  and  got  it, 
sir!  —  got  it,  after  waiting  eighteen  months.  Then  he 
doubled  his  price  and  played  the  same  game.  Now,  if  you 
want  anything  from  his  brush,  you  must  order  it  six  years 
in  advance." 

There  was  a  large  kernel  of  truth  in  Brandagee's  words, 
as  I  afterwards  had  occasion  to  discover.  He  had  been  ab- 
sent during  the  summer,  as  the  Avenger's  correspondent  at 


JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  357 

the  wat.ering-places,  claiming  his  rights  as  "  dead-head  M  ou 
railways  and  in  hotels,  and  now  returned  more  audacious 
and  imperious  than  ever.  During  his  absence,  the  Cave  of 
Trophonius  had  been,  for  the  most  part,  deserted.  Miles 
confessed  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  accommodate  "  other 
parties  "  with  the  use  of  its  oracular  walls,  but  he  promised 
that  "  you  literary  gents  shall  'ave  it  agin,  'avin'  a  sort  o1 
fust  claim." 

These  things,  however,  belong  to  the  unimportant  inci- 
dents of  my  life.  An  event  occurred  —  as  I  find  by  a  ref- 
erence to  the  files  of  the  Daily  Wonder  for  the  year  185- 
—  on  the  night  of  the  27th  of  September,  which  was  of 
vital  consequence  to  my  subsequent  fortunes. 

One  of  the  assistant  reporters  was  sick,  and  in  case  any- 
thing of  interest  should  transpire,  it  was  expected  that  I 
should  perform  his  duty.  I  had  been  unusually  busy  through 
the  day,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night  had  just  corrected 
and  sent  into  the  composing-room  my  last  "  copy  "  for  the 
morning's  paper,  when  the  bell  on  the  City  Hall  began  to 
boom  the  announcement  of  a  fire.  I  forced  open  my  heavy 
eyelids,  gave  up,  with  a  sigh,  the  near  prospect  of  sleep 
and  rest,  seized  my  pencil  and  note-book,  and  hurried  off 
in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  strokes. 

It  was  a  damp,  misty  night,  I  remember,  and  as  I  reached 
the  elevation  of  Broadway  at  Leonard  Street,  I  could 
distinguish  a  dull  glimmer  over  the  tops  of  the  tall  houses 
on  the  western  side.  I  could  hear  the  sharp,  quick  rattle 
of  a  fire-engine  dashing  up  Church  Street,  while  others, 
coming  from  the  eastern  part  of  the  city,  shot  through  the 
Canal  Street  crossing.  The  fire  was  somewhere  in  the  Tenth 
\Vard,  it  seemed,  —  a  trifling  affair,  not  worth  keeping  me 
from  my  bed,  I  thought,  but  for  the  certainty  of  the  Aven- 
ger's reporter  being  on  hand,  eager  to  distance  the  Wonder 
in  the  morning,  and  then  proclaim  the  fact,  next  day,  as 
a  triumph  of  "  newspaper  enterprise." 

A  few  minutes  more  brought  me  to  the  scene.    It  was  b 


858  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Greeii  Street,  near  Broome.  The  flames  were  alreadj 
bursting  out  of  the  windows  of  a  tall  brick  house ;  three 
or  four  streams  from  as  many  engines  were  sparkling  and 
hissing  in  the  red  light,  having  as  yet  made  no  headway 
against  the  conflagration  ;  and  a  line  of  policemen,  on  either 
side,  kept  back  the  increasing  mass  of  spectators.  There 
were  shouts  of  command,  cries,  exclamations ;  alarm  and 
excitement  in  the  opposite  and  adjoining  houses,  and  a  wet, 
sooty,  dirty  chaos  of  people,  furniture,  beams,  and  bricks, 
pouring  out  from  below,  or  hurled  down  from  above  the 
fiery  confusion.  I  was  accustomed  to  such  scenes  and 
thought  only  of  following  my  professional  instinct,  —  ascer- 
taining the  name  of  the  owner  of  the  property,  its  value, 
and  the  amount  of  insurance  upon  it. 

A  word  to  a  captain  of  police,  and  the  exhibition  of  my 
pencil  and  note-book,  procured  me  admission  into  the  space 
cleared  for  the  engines  and  hose-carriages  in  front  of  the 
fire.  Here  I  was  alternately  sprinkled  by  upward  spirts 
from  pin-holes  in  the  snaky  hose,  and  scorched  by  downward 
whiffs  of  air,  but  I  had  the  entire  scene  under  my  eye  and 
could  pick  up  my  information  from  the  tenants  of  the  burn- 
ing house,  as  soon  as  they  had  done  saving  their  mattresses 
and  looking-glasses,  —  the  objects  first  rescued  on  such 
occasions. 

The  second  house  on  the  left,  just  opposite  my  perch  <  n 
the  top  of  a  shabby  chest  of  drawers,  was  brilliantly  ligl  t- 
ed.  The  shutters  being  thrown  back  and  the  windo./s 
opened,  I  looked  directly  into  a  sumptuous  double  parl»  r, 
which  appeared  to  be  the  scene  of  an  interrupted  entr  r- 
tainment.  The  lid  of  the  piano  was  lifted,  and  a  table  'n 
the  centre  was  covered  with  glasses  and  bottles.  At  ea  :h 
window  were  grouped  three  or  four  girls,  with  bare  wh  ie 
shoulders  and  arms,  talking  and  laughing  loudly  with  su  -h 
firemen  as  took  a  moment's  breathing-spell  on  the  sidewalk 
under  them.  Glasses,  I  could  see,  were  occasionally  pasted 
down  to  the  latter. 


JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  353 

"  It 's  a  chance  if  Old  Western  is  n't  smoked  out  of  hei 
hole,"  remarked  one  policeman  to  another. 

"  Faith,  she  might  be  spared  from  this  neighborhood," 
the  latter  answered,  laughing.  "They  are  carrying  the 
hose  up  to  her  roof,  now ! " 

I  looked  up  and  saw  the  helmet  and  red  shirt  of  a  fire- 
man behind  the  eaves.  The  street-door  was  entered  with- 
out ceremony,  and  I  presently  noticed  a  commotion  among 
the  careless  inmates.  A  policeman  made  his  appearance 
in  the  parlor ;  the  bottles  were  swiftly  removed,  and,  at  a 
signal  from  a  middle-aged  woman,  with  a  hawk's  beak  of  a 
nose,  the  girls  disappeared. 

All  at  once,  a  part  of  the  roof  of  the  burning  building 
fell  in.  A  cloud  of  fiery  dust  arose,  raining  into  the  street 
as  it  rolled  across  the  inky  sky.  The  heat  became  intense : 
the  men  who  worked  the  nearest  engine  were  continually 
drenched  with  water  to  prevent  their  clothes  taking  fire. 
My  position  became  untenable,  without  more  risk  than  a 
reporter  is  justified  in  running  for  the  sake  of  an  item  of 
twelve  lines,  and  I  hastily  retreated  across  the  street  By 
this  time  many  other  engines  had  arrived,  and  larger  space 
was  required  for  their  operations.  I  was  literally  driven  to 
the  wall  by  the  press  of  wheels  and  water-jets  and  the  reck- 
less earnestness  of  the  firemen. 

Perceiving  a  narrow,  arched  passage  between  the  two 
houses,  —  an  old-fashioned  kitchen-entrance,  —  I  took  ref- 
uge in  it.  The  conflagration  lighted  up  the  further  end, 
and  showed  me  that  a  hose  had  been  already  laid  there 
and  carried  to  the  rear.  I  therefore  determined  to  follow 
it  and  ascertain  what  could  be  seen  from  the  other  side. 
By  the  help  of  some  stakes  and  the  remains  of  a  grape- 
arbor,  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  board-fence  which 
inclosed  the  back-yard.  The  wind  blew  from  the  west, 
ind  thus,  although  I  found  myself  quite  near  to  the  fire 
I  was  not  much  incommoded  by  the  heat.  The  brave  fel- 
lows on  the  roof  of  the  nearest  house  moved  about  in  dark 


•360  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

relief  against  the  flickering,  surging  background  of  dun 
and  scarlet  light.  I  shuddered  as  I  saw  them  walking 
on  the  brink  and  peering  down  into  the  fatal  gulf.  A 
strong  reflected  lustre  was  thrown  upon  the  surrounding 
houses  from  the  low-hanging  mist,  and  revealed  every 
object  with  wonderful  distinctness. 

There  was  a  rear  wing  to  the  house  designated  by  the 
policeman  as  belonging  to  "  Old  Western,"  and  I  had  taken 
my  stand  near  one  corner  of  it,  at  the  junction  of  the  fences 
with  those  of  two  back-yards  belonging  to  the  opposite 
houses  in  Wooster  Street.  I  had  not  been  stationed  thus 
two  minutes,  before  an  agitated,  entreating  voice  came 
down  to  me,  — 

"  Oh,  sir,  good  sir,  —  please  help  me  to  get  away !  " 

I  looked  up.  A  window  in  the  end  of  the  rear  wing  was 
open,  and  out  of  it  leaned  a  girl,  partly  dressed,  and  with 
her  hair  hanging  about  her  ears,  but  with  a  shawl  closely 
drawn  over  her  shoulders  and  breast.  She  was  not  more 
than  seventeen  or  eighteen.  The  expression  of  her  face 
was  wild,  frightened,  eager,  and  I  imagined  that  she  was  so 
confused  by  fear  as  to  have  forgotten  the  ready  means  of 
escape  by  the  street-door. 

"  Please  help  me,  quick  —  quick  !  "  she  repeated. 

"  The  house  is  not  on  fire  yet,"  I  said  ;  "  you  can  go  out 
through  the  front  without  danger." 

"  Oh,  not  that  way,  —  not  that  way  !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  It 's  not  the  fire,  —  it 's  the  house  I  'in  afraid  of.  Oh,  save 
me,  sir,  save  me  !  " 

I  had  read,  in  the  Police  Gazette  and  other  classical 
papers  which  sometimes  fell  into  my  hands,  of  innocent 
girls  decoyed  into  dens  of  infamy,  very  much  as  I  had 
read  of  human  sacrifices  in  Dahomey,  without  supposing 
that  any  such  case  would  be  brought  directly  home  to  mj 
own  experience.  This  seemed  to  me  to  be  an  instance  of 
the  kind,  —  the  girl,  at  least,  desired  to  escape  from  the 
house,  and  I  could  not  doubt,  one  moment,  the  obligation 
upon  me  to  give  her  assistance. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  361 

*  I  will  save  you  if  I  can,"  I  said,  "  but  it  is  impossible 
for  you  to  come  down  from  that  window.  Can  I  get  into 
the  house  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  time,"  she  panted,  —  "  you  do  not  know  the 
way,  —  she  might  come  back.  I  will  go  down  into  the 
yard,  and  you  can  help  me  over  the  fence.  Wait,  —  I  'in 
coming !  " 

With  these  words  she  disappeared  from  the  window.  I 
shared  her  haste  and  anxiety,  without  comprehending  it, 
and  set  about  devising  a  plan  to  get  her  over  the  inclosure. 
The  floor  of  the  yard  was  paved,  and,  I  judged,  about  ten 
feet  below  me  :  I  might  barely  reach  her  hand  by  stooping 
down,  but  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  lift  her  to  the  top 
without  a  stay  for  my  own  exertions.  All  at  once  I  caught 
an  idea  from  the  dilapidated  arbor.  It  was  an  easy  matter 
to  loosen  one  of  the  top-pieces,  with  its  transverse  lattice- 
bars,  and  let  it  down  in  the  corner.  This  furnished  at  the 
same  time  a  stay  for  me,  and  an  assistance  to  her  feet  I 
had  barely  placed  it  in  the  proper  position  before  a  lower 
door  opened,  and  she  hurried  breathlessly  up  the  pavement 

"  Quick  !  "  she  whispered ;  "  they  are  all  over  the  house, 
—  they  may  see  us  any  minute  !  " 

I  directed  her  how  to  climb.  The  lowest  strip  of  lattice 
broke  away ;  the  second  held,  and  it  enabled  her  to  reach 
my  hand.  In  two  more  seconds  she  stood,  tottering,  on  the 
narrow  ledge  beside  me. 

••  Now,"  I  said.  "  we  must  get  down  on  the  other  side." 

"  Here,  —  here  !  "  she  exclaimed,  pointing  into  the  gar- 
den of  one  of  the  Wooster-Street  houses,  —  "  we  must  get 
out  that  way.  Not  in  front,  —  she  would  see  me  ! " 

She  was  so  terribly  in  earnest  that  I  never  thought  of 
disputing  her  will.  I  carefully  drew  up  the  rough  ladder, 
let  it  down  on  the  other  side,  and  helped  her  to  descend 
Then  1  followed. 

There  was  not  a  moment  to  spare.  I  had  scarcely 
touched  the  earth,  before  a  strong,  stem  woman's  voice 


362  JOHN    GODFREY'S    FORTUNES. 

cried,  "  Jane  !  Jane  ! "  from  the  room  above  us.  The  gin 
shuddered  and  seized  me  by  the  arm.  I  bade  her,  with  a 
gesture,  crouch  in  the  corner,  where  she  would  be  safely 
hidden  from  view,  and  stole  along  the  fence  until  I  caught 
sight  of  the  window.  Once  the  hawk's  beak  passed  in  pro- 
file before  it,  and  the  same  voice  said,  "  Damn  the  girl ! 
where  is  she  ?  " 

A  strong  light  shone  into  the  room  through  a  window  on 
the  north  side.  There  was  a  slamming  of  doors,  a  dragging 
noise  accompanied  by  shouts,  and  then  a  male  voice,  which 
seemed  very  familiar  to  my  ear,  said,  as  if  in  reply  to  "  Old 
Western's  "  profane  exclamation,  — 

"  What 's  the  matter,  old  woman  ?     Lost  one  of  'em  ?  " 

In  a  moment,  the  hose  being  apparently  adjusted,  a  stout, 
square  figure  in  a  red  shirt  came  to  the  window.  I  could 
plainly  see  that  the  hair,  also,  was  red,  the  face  broad,  the 
neck  thick,  —  in  short,  that  it  was  my  young  friend,  Hugh 
Maloney. 

"  She  can't  ha'  jumped  out  here,"  he  said.  "  You  need 
n't  be  worrited,  —  you  '11  find  her  down  in  front  among 
your  other  gals." 

A  minute  or  two  of  further  waiting  convinced  me  thai 
there  was  no  danger  of  the  means  of  escape  being  detected. 
The  occupants  of  the  Wooster-Street  houses  were  all  awake 
and  astir,  and  I  must  procure  an  exit  for  us  through  the 
one  to  which  the  garden  belonged.  I  spoke  a  word  of  en- 
couragement to  the  girl,  picked  up  the  light  bundle  ot 
clothes  she  had  brought  with  her,  and  boldly  approached 
the  rear  of  the  house.  This  movement,  of  course,  was  ob- 
served by  the  spectators  at  the  bedroom  windows,  and, 
after  a  little  parley,  a  man  came  down  with  a  candle  and 
admitted  us  into  the  back-kitchen.  When  he  had  carefully 
refastened  the  bolts,  darting  a  suspicious  glance  at  myself 
and  my  companion,  he  conducted  us  through  to  the  front 
door.  A  woman's  face,  framed  in  a  nightcap,  looked  down 
at  us  around  the  staircase-landing,  and,  just  before  the  dooi 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  363 

slammed  behind  us,  I  heard  her  call  out,  "  DC  n't  let  anj 
more  of  those  creatures  pass ! " 

I  fancy  the  girl  must  have  heard  it  too,  for  she  turned  to 
me  with  a  fresh  appeal,  —  "  I  'm  not  safe  yet,  —  take  me. 
away,  —  away  out  of  danger ! " 

I  gave  her  my  arm,  to  which  she  clung  as  if  it  were  a 
fluke  of  Hope's  own  anchor,  and  said,  as  we  walked  up  the 
streets,  — 

"  Where  do  you  wish  to  go  ?  Have  you  no  friends  or 
acquaintances  in  the  city  ?  " 

"  Oh,  none  ! "  she  cried.  "  I  don't  know  anybody  but  — 
but  one  I  ought  n't  to  have  ever  known !  I  'm  from  the 
country ;  I  did  n't  go  into  that  house  of  my  own  will,  and 
I  could  n't  get  out  after  I  found  what  it  was.  I  know  what 
you  must  think  of  me,  sir,  but  I  '11  tell  you  everything,  and 
maybe,  then,  you  '11  believe  that  I  'm  not  quite  so  wicked  as 
I  seem.  Take  me  anywhere,  —  I  don't  care  if  it 's  a  shanty, 
so  I  can  hide  and  be  safe.  Don't  think  that  I  meant  your 
own  house  ;  you  've  helped  me,  and  I  'd  die  rather  than  put 
disgrace  on  you.  The  Lord  help  me  !  —  I  may  be  doing 
that  now." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  began  to  cry. 
I  felt  that  she  spoke  the  simple  truth,  and  my  pity  and 
sympathy  were  all  the  more  keen,  because  I  had  never  be- 
fore encountered  this  form  of  a  ruined  life.  I  was  resolved 
to  help  her,  cost  what  it  might  As  for  disgrace,  the  very 
fear  she  expressed  showed  her  ignorance  of  the  world.  In 
a  great  city,  unfortunately,  young  men  may  brave  more 
than  one  aspect  of  disgrace  with  perfect  impunity. 

"  Would  you  not  like  to  go  back  to  your  friends  in  the 
country  ?  "  I  asked,  after  a  moment's  reflection. 

"  I  could  n't,"  she  moaned.  "  I  think  it  would  kill  me 
to  meet  any  of  them  now.  It  was  a  sin  to  leave  them  the 
way  I  did.  If  I  could  get  shelter  in  some  out-of-the-way 
street  where  there  'd  be  no  danger  of  her  finding  me,  — 
no  matter  how  poor  and  mean  it  was,  —  I  'd  work  night  and 


364  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

day  to  earn  an  honest  living.  I  'm  handy  with  the  needle, 
—  it 's  the  trade  I  was  learning  when  "  — 

A  plan  had  presented  itself  to  my  mind  while  she  was 
speaking.  I  think  that  vision  of  Hugh's  head  at  the  win- 
dow suggested  it.  I  would  go  with  her  to  Mary  Maloney 
and  beg  the  latter  to  give  her  shelter  for  a  day  or  two, 
until  employment  could  be  found.  In  Gooseberry  Alley 
she  would  be  secure  against  discovery,  and  I  believed  that 
Mary  Maloney,  even  if  she  knew  the  girl's  history,  would 
be  willing  to  help  her  at  my  request.  Nevertheless,  I  re- 
flected, it  was  better,  perhaps,  not  to  put  the  widow  to  this 
test.  It  would  be  enough  to  say  that  the  girl  was  a  stranger 
who  had  come  to  the  city,  had  been  disappointed  in  obtain- 
ing employment,  and  now  found  herself  alone,  friendless, 
and  without  means.  Then  I  remembered,  also,  that  my 
own  stock  of  linen  needed  to  be  replenished,  and  I  could 
therefore  supply  her  with  occupation  for  the  first  week  or 
two. 

I  stated  this  plan  in  a  few  words,  and  it  was  gladly  ac- 
cepted. The  girl  overwhelmed  me  with  her  professions  of 
gratitude,  of  her  desire  to  work  faithfully  and  prove  herself 
deserving  of  help.  She  knew  she  could  never  recover  her 
good  name,  she  said,  but  it  should  not  be  made  worse.  I, 
who  had  saved  her,  must  have  evidence  that  I  had  not  done 
it  in  vain. 

As  we  turned  down  Houston  in  the  direction  of  Sullivan 
Street,  we  met  a  party  of  four  aristocratic  youths,  in  the 
first  stage  of  elegant  dissipation.  The  girl  clung  to  my 
arm  so  convulsively  and  seemed  so  alarmed  that  I  crossed 
with  her  to  the  opposite  sidewalk.  They  stopped  and  ap- 
parently scrutinized  us  closely.  I  walked  forward,  how- 
ever, without  turning  my  head  until  we  reached  the  corner 
of  Sullivan  Street.  When  I  looked  back,  they  had  disap- 
peared, —  there  was  only  a  single  person,  standing  in  the 
shadow  of  the  trees. 

Gooseberry  Alley  was  quiet,  and  the  coolness  of  the 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  865 

night  had  partly  suppressed  its  noisome  odors.  I  stopped 
under  the  lamp  at  the  corner,  and,  while  I  said,  "  This  is 
the  place  1  spoke  of,  —  are  you  willing  to  try  it  ?  "  —  exam- 
ined the  girl's  face  for  the  first  time. 

She  was  rather  short  of  stature,  but  of  slight  and  grace- 
ful build.  Her  face  was  pale,  but  the  bloom  of  her  lips 
showed  that  her  cheeks  could  no  doubt  match  them  with 
a  pretty  tint  of  pink.  Her  eyes  —  either  of  dark  gray  or 
hazel  —  were  troubled,  but  something  of  their  girlish  ex- 
pression of  innocent  ignorance  remained.  A  simple,  honest 
loving  heart,  I  was  sure,  still  beat  beneath  the  mask  of 
sadness  and  shame.  It  never  occurred  to  me  that  I  was 
too  young  to  be  her  protector,  —  that  the  relation  between 
us  would  not  only  be  very  suspicious  in  the  sight  of  the 
world,  but  was  in  itself  both  delicate  and  difficult.  Neither 
did  it  occur  to  me  that  I  might  have  dispensed  with  the 
confession  she  had  promised  to  'make,  sparing  her  its  pain, 
and  allowing  her  to  work  out  her  redemption  silently,  with 
the  little  help  I  was  able  to  give.  On  the  contrary,  I  im- 
agined that  this  confession  was  necessary,  —  that  it  was  my 
duty  to  hear,  as  hers  to  give  it. 

"  I  have  not  time  to  hear  your  story  to-night,"  I  said 
"  I  will  see  you  again  soon.  But  you  have  not  yet  told  me 
your  name." 

"  Jane  Berry,"  she  whispered. 

"  And  mine  is  John  Godfrey." 

I  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  tenement-house,  and  after 
some  delay,  and  the  preliminary  projection  of  Feeny's 
sleepy  head  from  the  second-story  window,  was  admitted  by 
Mary  Maloney  herself.  She  had  sprung  out  of  bed  and 
rushed  down-stairs  in  a  toilette  improvised  for  the  occasion 
—  a  ragged  patch-work  quilt  held  tightly  to  her  spare  body 
and  trailing  on  the  floor  behind  her,  —  under  the  impres- 
sion that  something  must  have  happened  to  Hugh.  In  or- 
der to  allay  her  fears,  I  came  within  an  ace  of  betraying 
that  I  had  seen  the  latter.  I  told  her  the  fictitious  storj 


366  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

(Heaven  pardon  me  for  it ! )  which  I  had  composed,  and 
asked  her  assistance.  The  fragment  of  burning  tallow  in 
her  hand  revealed  enough  of  Jane  Berry's  pretty  face  and 
tearful,  imploring  eyes,  to  touch  the  Irishwoman's  heart. 

"  Indade,  and  it 's  little  I  can  do,"  she  said,  "  but  you  're 
welcome  to  that  little,  Miss,  even  without  Mr.  Godfrey's 
askin'.  And  to  think  that  you  met  him  in  the  street,  too, 
jist  as  I  did  !  It 's  a  mercy  it  was  Mm,  instid  o'  the  other 
young  fellows  that  goes  ragin'  around  o'  nights." 

I  could  imagine  the  pang  which  these  words  caused  *j 
the  poor  girl's  heart,  and  therefore,  saying  that  I  had  still 
work  to  do,  and  they  must  both  go  to  rest  at  once,  hurried 
away  from  the  house. 

My  notes  were  incomplete,  and  I  was  obliged  to  return  to 
the  scene  of  the  fire,  where  I  found  smoke  and  ruin  instead 
of  flames.  Two  or  three  engines  were  playing  into  the 
smouldering  hollows,  sending  up  clouds  of  steam  from  the 
hot  bricks  and  burning  timbers,  and  the  torches  of  the  fire- 
men showed  the  piles  of  damaged  furniture  in  the  plashy 
street  Two  houses  had  been  destroyed,  and  the  walls  of 
one  having  fallen,  there  was  a  gap  like  a  broken  tooth  in 
the  even  line  of  the  block. 

I  soon  learned  that  there  had  been  an  accident  The 
front  wall,  crashing  down  unexpectedly,  had  fallen  upou  i 
fireman  who  was  in  the  act  of  removing  a  ladder.  They 
had  carried  him  to  the  nearest  druggist's  on  Broadway,  and 
it  was  feared  that  his  hurt  was  fatal.  The  men  talked  about 
it  calmly,  as  of  an  ordinary  occurrence,  but  performed  their 
duties  with  a  slow,  mechanical  air,  which  told  of  weariness 
and  sadness. 

Of  course,  I  was  obliged  to  visit  the  druggist's,  and  ob- 
tain the  name  and  condition  of  the  unfortunate  man.  The 
business  of  a  reporter  precludes  indulgence  in  sentiment 
prohibits  delicacy  of  feeling.  If  the  victim  of  a  tragedy  is 
able  to  give  his  name,  age,  and  place  of  residence,  he  may 
then  die  in  peace.  The  family,  drowned  in  tears  and  de- 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  367 

spair,  must  nevertheless  furnish  the  particulars  of  the  mur« 
der  or  suicide.  Public  curiosity,  represented  by  the  agent 
of  the  newspaper,  claims  its  privilege,  and  will  not  abate 
one  item  of  the  harrowing  details. 

The  policeman,  guarding  the  door  from  the  rush  of  an 
excited  crowd,  admitted  me  behind  the  blue  and  crimson 
globes.  The  injured  man,  bedded  on  such  cushions  as  the 
shop  afforded,  lay  upon  the  floor,  surrounded  by  a  group  of 
his  fellow-firemen.  His  shirt  had  been  cut  off,  and  his 
white,  massive  breast  lay  bare  under  the  lamp.  There  was 
no  external  sign  of  injury,  but  a  professional  eye  could  see 
knobs  and  protrusions  of  flesh  which  did  not  correspond  tc 
the  natural  overlapping  of  the  muscles.  A  surgeon,  kneel- 
ing beside  his  head,  held  one  arm,  with  his  finger  on 
the  pulse,  and  wiped  away  with  a  sponge  the  bloody  foam 
which  bubbled  from  his  lips. 

Presently  the  man  opened  his  eyes,  —  large,  clear,  sol- 
emn eyes,  full  of  mysterious,  incomprehensible  speech. 
His  lips  moved  feebly,  and  although  no  sound  came  from 
them,  I  saw,  and  I  think  all  the  others  saw,  that  the  word 
he  would  have  uttered  was,  "  Good-bye  ! " 

"  He  has  but  a  minute  more,  poor  fellow  !  "  whispered 
the  surgeon. 

Then,  as  by  a  single  impulse,  each  one  of  the  rough  group 
of  firemen  took  off  his  helmet,  knelt  upon  the  floor,  and 
reverently  bowed  his  head  in  silence  around  the  dying  man. 
I  knelt  beside  them,  awed  and  thrilled  to  the  depths  of  my 
soul  by  the  scene.  The  fading  lips  partly  curved  in  an  in- 
effable smile  of  peace ;  the  eyes  did  not  close  again,  but 
the  life  slowly  died  out  of  them ;  a  few  convulsive  move- 
ments of  the  body,  and  the  shattered  breast  became  stone. 
Then  a  hand  gently  pressed  down  the  lids,  and  the  kneel- 
ing men  arose.  There  was  not  a  sob,  nor  a  sound,  but 
every  face  was  wet  with  tears  unconsciously  shed.  They 
lifted  the  body  of  their  comrade  and  bore  him  tenderly 
away. 


3fi8  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  before  m\ 

J  o  * 

task  was  finished,  and  I  could  go  home  to  bed  with  a  good 
conscience.  I  had  passed  the  crisis  of  fatigue,  and  was  pre- 
ternaturally  awake  in  every  sense.  The  two  incidents  of 
the  night  powerfully  affected  me ;  dissimilar  as  they  were, 
either  seemed  to  spring  from  something  originally  noble 
and  undefiled  in  the  nature  of  Man.  The  homage  of  those 
firemen  to  the  sanctity  of  Death  made  them  my  brothers ; 
the  ruder  and  more  repellant  aspects  of  their  lives  drifted 
away  like  smoke  before  this  revelation  of  tenderness.  To 
Jane  Berry,  however,  my  relation  assumed  the  pride  and 
importance  of  a  protector,  —  possibly  of  a  saving  agent. 
The  remembrance  of  what  I  had  done  in  her  case  filled 
me  with  perfect,  serene  happiness.  I  will  not  say  that  van- 
ity, —  that  selfishness  (though  Heaven  knows  how ! )  had 
no  part  in  my  satisfaction ;  many  profound  teachers  and 
exceedingly  proper  persons  will  tell  us  so  ;  —  nor  do  I  much 
care.  I  knew  that  I  had  done  a  good  deed,  and  it  was  right 
I  should  deem  that  the  approving  smile  of  Our  Father  ha* 
lowed  my  sleep  that  night 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  369 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

DC  WHICH    PEN  ROSE   FLINGS   DOWN   THE    GLOVE  AND  I  P1CB 
IT    UP. 

MART  MALONEY  called  upon  me  the  next  morning,  as  I 
had  requested  her  to  do.  The  girl,  she  said,  had  shared 
her  own  hed,  and  had  risen  apparently  refreshed  and  cheer- 
ful. Hugh,  who  came  home  after  midnight,  had  been  in- 
clined to  oppose  the  acceptance  of  the  new  tenant,  until  she 
explained  to  him  the  u  rights  of  it,"  whereupon  he  had 
acquiesced.  She  thought  there  would  not  be  much  diffi- 
culty in  procuring  work,  as  the  busy  season  for  tailors  and 
sempstresses  was  coming  on ;  and,  meantime,  she  herself 
would  attend  to  buying  the  linen  and  other  materials  for 
my  new  shirts. 

Having  furnished  the  money  for  this  purpose,  and  added 
a  small  sum  for  the  girl's  support  until  she  was  able  to 
earn  something,  I  considered  that  nothing  more  could  be 
done  until  my  knowledge  of  her  story  gave  me  other  means 
of  assisting  her.  I  was  naturally  curious  to  learn  more  about 
her,  but  my  occupation  during  the  days  immediately  suc- 
ceeding the  fire  prevented  my  promised  visit,  and  very 
soon  other  events  occurred  to  delay  it  still  further. 

Mrs.  Deering  returned  from  her  summer  residence  on 
the  Sound  during  the  first  week  of  October,  and  I  was  not 
long  in  discovering  the  fact  and  calling  upon  her.  .  She 
had  corresponded  with  Miss  Haworth  during  the  summer, 
and  gave,  without  my  asking,  an  outline  of  the  latter's 
journey,  adding  that  she  was  now  on  her  way  home.  If 
I  had  not  already  betrayed  m  elf  to  Miss  Dealing's  de 
84 


870  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

tective  eye,  I  must  certainly  have  done  it  then.  I  felt  and 
expressed  altogether  too  much  happiness  for  a  young  gen- 
tleman to  manifest  in  regard  to  the  return  of  a  young  lady 
without  some  special  cause.  I  was  perfectly  willing  that 
she  should  suspect  my  secret,  so  long  as  its  disclosure  was 
reserved  for  the  one  who  had  the  first  right  to  hear  it. 

From  that  day  my  walks  at  leisure  times  extended  be- 
yond Fourteenth  Street  I  watched  the  house  in  Gra- 
mercy  Park,  until  observed  (detected,  I  fancied)  by  Mr. 
Tracy  Floyd,  who  tossed  me  an  insolent  half-recognition 
as  he  passed.  In  a  week,  however,  there  was  evidence  of 
Miss  Haworth's  arrival.  I  did  not  see  her,  but  there  was 
no  mistaking  the  character  of  the  trunks  which  were  un- 
loaded from  an  express-wagon  at  the  door. 

I  allowed  two  days  to  elapse  before  calling.  It  was  a 
compromise  between  prudence  and  impatience.  The  event 
was  of  too  much  importance  to  hazard  an  unsatisfactory 
issue.  Not  that  I  intended  declaring  my  love,  or  con- 
sciously permitting  it  to  be  expressed  in  my  words  and 
actions ;  but  I  felt  that  in  thus  meeting,  after  an  absence 
of  some  months,  there  would  be  something  either  to  flatter 
my  hope  or  discourage  it  wholly. 

I  dressed  myself  and  took  my  way  across  Union  Square 
and  up  Fourth  Avenue,  with  considerable  trepidation  of 
mind.  I  was  aware  that  my  visit  was  sanctioned  by  the 
liberal  conventionalism  of  the  city,  and,  moreover,  I  had 
her  permission  to  make  it,  —  yet  the  consciousness  of 
the  secret  I  carried  troubled  me.  My  heart  throbbed 
restlessly  as  when,  three  or  four  years  before,  I  had  car- 
ried my  poem  of  the  "  Unknown  Bard "  to  the  newspaper 
office.  But  I  never  thought  of  turning  back  this  time. 

I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  Miss  Haworth  at  home  and 
Mr.  Floyd  out  The  latter,  I  suspect,  had  not  credited  me 
with  boldness  enough  for  the  deed,  and  had  therefore  taken 
no  precautions  against  guarding  the  beauty  and  the  fortune 
which  he  was  determined  to  possess. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  371 

I  looked  around  the  sumptuous  parlor  while  awaiting 
Miss  Haworth's  appearance,  and  recognized  in  the  pictures, 
the  bronzes,  the  elegant  disposition  of  furniture  and  orna- 
ments, the  evidence  of  her  taste.  It  was  wealth,  not  coarse, 
glaring,  and  obtrusive,  but  chastened  and  ennobled  by  cul- 
ture. Thank  God  !  I  whispered  to  myself,  money  is  her 
slave,  not  her  deity. 

The  silken  rustling  on  the  stairs  sent  a  thousand  tremors 
along  my  nerves,  but  I  steadily  faced  the  door  by  which 
she  would  enter,  and  advanced  to  meet  her  as  soon  as  I 
saw  the  gray  gleam  of  her  dress.  How  bright  and  beau- 
tiful she  was !  —  not  flashing  and  dazzling  as  one  accus- 
tomed to  conquest,  but  with  a  soft,  subdued  lustre,  folding 
in  happy  warmth  the  heart  that  reverently  approached  her. 
Her  face  had  caught  a  bloom  and  her  eye  an  added  clear- 
ness from  the  breezes  of  the  Northwest ;  I  dared  not 
take  to  myself  the  least  ray  of  her  cheerful  brightness. 
But  I  did  say  —  for  I  could  not  help  it  —  that  I  was  very 
glad  to  see  her  again,  and  that  I  had  often  thought  of  her 
during  the  long  summer. 

"  You  must  have  found  it  long,  indeed,"  she  said,  "  not 
being  allowed  to  escape  from  the  city.  I  am  afraid  I  have 
hardly  deserved  my  magnificent  holiday,  except  by  enjoy- 
ing it.  You.  who  could  have  described  the  shores  of  Lake 
Superior  and  the  cliffs  and  cataracts  of  the  Upper  Missis- 
sippi, ought  to  have  had  the  privilege  of  seeing  them  rather 
than  myself." 

"  No,  no  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  The  capacity  to  enjoy  gives 
you  the  very  highest  right  And  I  am  sure  that  you  can 
also  describe.  Do  you  remember  your  promise,  when  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  in  the  Exhibition  Rooms  ?  You 
were  to  tell  me  about  all  you  should  see." 

"  Was  it  a  promise  ?  Then  I  must  try  to  deserve  my 
privilege  in  that  way.  But  here  is  something  better 
than  description,  which  I  have  brought  back  with  me." 

She  took  a  portfolio  from  the  table  and  drew  out  a  numbei 


372  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

of  photographic  views.  The  inspection  of  these  required 
explanations  on  her  part,  and  she  was  unconsciously  led 
to  add  her  pictures  to  those  of  the  sun.  I  saw  how  truly 
she  had  appreciated  and  how  clearly  remembered  the 
scenes  of  her  journey  ;  our  conversation  became  frank, 
familiar,  and  in  the  highest  degree  delightful  to  me.  A 
happy  half-hour  passed  away,  and  I  had  entirely  forgotten 
the  proprieties,  to  the  observance  of  which  I  had  mentally 
bound  myself,  when  the  servant  announced,  — 

«  Mr.  Penrose  ! " 

I  started,  and,  from  an  impulse  impossible  to  resist, 
looked  at  Miss  Haworth.  I  fancied  that  an  expression 
of  surprise  and  annoyance  passed  over  her  face,  —  but  it 
was  so  faint  that  I  could  not  be  certain.  My  conversation 
with  her  concerning  him,  at  Deering's  "  very  sociable " 
party,  recurred  to  my  mind,  and  I  awaited  his  entrance 
with  a  curious  interest  There  was  nothing  in  the  manner 
of  her  reception,  however,  to  enlighten  me.  She  was 
quietly  self-possessed,  and  as  cordial  as  their  previous 
social  intercourse  required. 

On  the  other  hand,  Penrose,  I  thought,  was  not  quite  at 
ease.  I  had  not  seen  him  before,  since  his  return  from  Sar- 
atoga, and  was  prepared  for  the  quick  glance  of  surprise 
with  which  he  regarded  me.  The  steady,  penetrating  ex- 
pression of  his  eyes,  as  we  shook  hands,  drew  a  little  color 
into  my  face ;  he  was  so  skilful  in  reading  me  that  I  feared 
my  secret  was  no  longer  safe.  For  this  very  reason  I  de- 
termined to  remain,  and  assume  a  more  formal  air,  in  the 
hope  of  deceiving  him.  Besides,  I  was  desirous  to  study, 
if  possible,  the  degree  and  character  of  his  acquaintance 
with  Miss  Haworth. 

"  Ah !  these  are  souvenirs  of  your  trip,  I  suppose,"  he 
said,  glancing  at  the  photographs  as  he  rolled  a  heavy  vel- 
vet chair  towards  the  table  and  took  his  seat.  "  I  only 
heard  of  your  arrival  this  evening,  from  Mrs.  Deering.  and 
hoped  that  1  would  be  the  first  to  compliment  you  on  you» 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  373 

daring ;  but  Mr.  Godfrey,  I  see,  has  deprived  me  of  that 
pleasure." 

To  my  surprise,  a  light  flush  ran  over  Miss  Haworth's 
face,  and  she  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  uncertain  what  reply 
to  make.  It  was  but  for  a  moment ;  she  picked  up  some 
of  the  photographs  and  said, — 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  these  views  of  Lake  Pepin  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  running  over  them  like  a  pack  of 
cards  ;  "  superb  !  magnificent !  By  Jove,  I  shall  have  to 
make  the  trip  myself.  But  I  would  rather  see  a  photograph 
of  Lake  George.  What  a  pity  we  can't  fix  heroic  deeds  as 
well  as  landscapes  !  " 

"  Mr.  Pen  rose,"  Miss  Haworth  remarked,  with  an  air  of 
quiet  dignity,  "  I  would  rather,  if  you  please,  not  hear  any 
further  allusion  to  that." 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Haworth,"  he  said,  bowing  gravely ; 
"I  ought  to  have  known  that  you  are  as  modest  as  you  are 
courageous.  I  will  be  silent,  of  course,  but  you  cannot  for- 
bid me  the  respect  and  admiration  I  shall  always  feel." 

What  did  they  mean  ?  Something  of  which  I  was  igno- 
rant had  evidently  taken  place,  and  her  disinclination  to 
hear  it  discussed  prevented  me  from  asking  a  question.  My 
.nterest  in  the  conversation  increased,  although  the  pause 
which  ensued  after  Penrose's  last  words  hinted  to  me  that 
the  subject  must  be  changed.  I  was  trying  to  think  of  a 
fresh  topic,  when  he  resumed,  with  his  usual  easy  adroit- 
ness,— 

"  I  don't  suppose  I  ever  did  a  really  good  deed  in  my 
life,  Miss  Haworth,  —  that  is,  with  deliberate  intention. 
One  does  such  things  accidentally,  sometimes." 

"  Don't  believe  him!"  said  I.  "  I!e  likes  to  be  thought 
worse  than  he  really  is." 

"  If  that  is  true,  I  should  call  it  a  perverted  vanity,"  Miss 
Haworth  remarked. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  Penrose  replied  to  her,  "  but  it  is 
act  true.  I  have  no  mind  to  be  considered  worse  than  J 


374  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

am,  but  to  be  considered  better  implies  hypocrisy  on  mj 
part  I  might  compromise  for  my  lack  of  active  goodness, 
as  most  people  do,  by  liberal  contributions  to  missions  and 
tract-societies,  and  rejoice  in  a  saintly  reputation.  But 
where  would  be  the  use  ?  It  would  only  be  playing  a  more 
tiresome  role  in  the  great  comedy.  Because  I  am  not  the 
virtuous  hero,  I  need  not  necessarily  be  the  insidious  villain 
of  the  plot.  The  walking  gentleman  suits  me  better.  I 
know  all  the  other  characters,  but  they  are  my  '  kyind 
friends,' —  I  treat  them  with  equal  politeness,  avoid  their 
fuss  and  excitement,  and  reach  the  denouement  without 
tearing  my  hair  or  deranging  my  dress." 

He  spoke  in  a  gay,  rattling  tone,  as  if  not  expecting  that 
his  assertions  would  be  believed.  Miss  Haworth  smiled  at 
the  part  he  assumed,  but  said  nothing. 

"  What  will  you  do  when  the  play  is  over  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Come,  Godfrey,  don't  bring  me  to  bay.  Everything  on 
this  planet  repeats  itself  once  in  twenty-eight  thousand  years. 
In  the  mean  time,  I  may  go  on  a  starring  tour  (pardon  the 
pun,  Miss  Haworth,  it  is  n't  my  habit)  through  the  other 
parts  of  the  universe.  Why  should  one  be  brought  up  with 
a  serious  round  turn  at  every  corner  ?  It  should  be  the 
object  of  one's  life  to  escape  the  seriousness  of  Life." 

"  Death  is  the  most  serious  aspect  of  Life,"  I  said,  "  and 
it  is  not  well  that  we  should  turn  our  faces  away  from  it" 

I  could  not  talk  lightly  on  subjects  of  such  earnest  im- 
port. Death  and  ruin  had  too  recently  touched  my  own 
experience.  I  began  to  tell  the  story  of  the  crushed  fire- 
man, and  Penrose,  though  at  first  he  looked  bored,  finally 
succumbed  to  the  impression  of  the  death-scene.  I  found 
myself  strangely  moved  as  I  recounted  the  particulars,  and 
it  required  some  effort  to  preserve  the  steadiness  of  my 
voice.  When  I  closed  there  were  tears  in  Miss  Haworth's 
lovely  eyes.  Penrose  drew  a  long  breath  and  exclaimed, — 
"  That  was  a  grand  exit." 

Then  his  face  darkened,  and  he  became  silent  and  moody 


JOHN1  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  875 

I  heard  the  street-door  open,  and  suspecting  that  it  was 
Mr.  Tracy  Floyd,  whom  I  had  no  desire  to  meet,  rose  to 
lake  leave.  Penrose  followed  my  example,  saying,  as  ha 
lightly  touched  Miss  Haworth's  hand,  — 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me  if  I  have  failed  to  respect 
your  delicacy  of  feeling.  I  assure  you  I  meant  to  express 
no  empty,  formal  compliment.'' 

"  The  case  has  been  greatly  magnified,  I  have  no  doubt," 
she  answered.  "  I  simply  obeyed  a  natural  impulse,  which, 
I  am  sure,  any  other  person  would  have  felt,  and  it  is  not 
agreeable  to  me  to  have  a  reputation  for  heroism  on  such 
cheap  terms." 

I  presume  my  face  expressed  my  wonder  at  these  words, 
for  she  smiled  with  eyes  still  dewy  from  the  tears  I  had 
called  forth  —  a  warm,  liquid,  speaking  smile,  which  I  an- 
swered with  a  tender  pressure  of  her  hand.  The  next 
moment,  frightened  at  my  own  boldness,  and  tingling  with 
rosy  thrills  of  passion,  I  turned  to  meet  Mr.  Floyd  at  the 
door. 

Penrose  greeted  him  with  a  cool,  off-hand  air  of  superi- 
ority, and  I  answered  his  amazed  stare  with  the  smallest 
and  stiffest  fragment  of  a  bow.  We  were  in  the  street  be- 
fore he  had  time  to  recover. 

We  turned  into  and  walked  down  Fourth  Avenue  side 
by  side.  I  made  some  remarks  about  the  night  and  the 
weather,  to  which  Penrose  did  not  reply.  His  head  was 
bent,  and  he  appeared  to  be  busy  with  his  own  thoughts. 
Presently,  however,  he  took  hold  of  my  arm  with  a  fierce 
grasp,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  John,  did  you  mention  it  to  her  ?  And  did  she  allow 
you  to  speak  of  it  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  .  "  I  asked.  "  What  was  it  ?  You 
and  she  were  speaking  in  riddles.  I  know  nothing  more 
than  that  she  did  sdmething  which  you  admire,  but  which 
she  does  not  wish  to  have  mentioned." 

"And  you  really  don't  know  ?    That  girl  is  a  trump,  John 


376  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Godfrey.     She  saved  a  man's  life  at  the  risk  of  her  own,  a 
fortnight  ago." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Where  ?  How  ?  " 
"At  Lake  George.  They  were  there  on  their  return 
from  the  Northwest  The  season  was  nearly  over,  you 
know,  and  there  were  not  many  persons  at  the  hotel,  but  I 
had  the  story  from  Welford,  our  next-door  neighbor  in 
Chambers  Street,  who  was  one  of  them.  It  seems  that  she 
had  gone  off  alone,  strolling  along  the  shore,  and  as  the 
day  was  clear  and  hot,  had  taken  a  seat  somewhere  under 
a  tree,  near  the  water,  beside  a  little  point  of  rock.  One 
of  the  Irish  waiters  went  into  the  lake  for  a  bath,  and 
whether  he  got  beyond  his  depth  and  could  n't  swim,  or 
whether  the  coldness  of  the  water  gave  him  the  cramp,  I 
don't  know,  but  the  fact  is  he  went  down.  Up  he  came 
again,  splashing  and  strangling  ;  she  heard  the  noise, 
sprang  upon  the  rock,  and  saw  the  fellow  as  he  went  down 
the  second  time.  Another  girl  would  have  stood  and 
screeched,  but  she  walked  straight  into  the  lake  —  think 
of  it,  by  Jove  !  —  until  the  water  reached  her  chin.  She 
could  see  his  body  on  the  bottom,  and  perhaps  he,  too,  saw 
her  white  dress  near  him,  for  he  stretched  out  his  arm  to- 
wards her.  She  shut  her  eyes,  plunged  under  and  just  caught 
hmi  by  the  tip  of  a  finger.  Good  God,  if  she  had  lost  her 
balance  !  His  hand  closed  on  hers  with  a  death-grip.  She. 
drew  him  into  shallower  water,  then,  by  main  force,  —  big 
and  heavy  as  he  was,  —  upon  the  sand,  threw  his  clothes 
over  his  body,  and  stuck  her  parasol  into  the  ground  to 
keep  the  sun  off  his  head.  There  was  a  scene  at  the  hotel 
when  she  walked  in,  drowned  and  dripping  from  head  to 
foot,  and  called  the  landlord  to  the  rescue.  The  man  was 
saved,  and  I  hear  there  was  no  end  to  his  gratitude.  The 
other  young  ladies,  Welford  says,  thought  it  very  romantic 
and  predicted  a  marriage,  until  they  found  it  was  an  Irish 
waiter,  when  they  turned  up  their  noses  and  said,  '  How 
could  she  do  such  a  thin<r  '  ' " 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  377 

Penrose  closed  his  story  with  a  profane  exclamation 
which  I  will  not  repeat.  The  noble,  heroic  girl !  I  was 
filled  with  pride  and  admiration  —  it  was  honor  but  to  love 
her,  it  would  be  bliss  unspeaka'ble  to  win  her  ! 

"  It  was  gloriously  done  ! "  I  cried.  "  There  is  nobody 
like  her."  I  quite  forgot  that  I  was  betraying  myself. 

"  John,"  said  Penrose,  "  come  into  the  square.  You  and 
I  must  have  an  explanation.  You  love  Isabel  Haworth, 
and  so  do  I ! " 

"  Good  God,  Alexander  !     Are  you  serious  ?  " 

"  Serious  ? "  he  echoed,  with  a  savage  intensity  which 
silenced  me.  We  entered  the  eastern  gate  of  the  oval  en- 
closure, which,  at  that  hour,  was  almost  deserted.  Two  or 
three  footsteps  only  crushed  the  broad  gravel-paths.  The 
leaves  were  falling,  at  intervals,  from  the  trees,  and  the 
water  gurgled  out  of  the  pipes  in  the  middle  of  the  basin. 
I  followed  him  to  the  central  circle,  where  he  stopped, 
turned,  and  faced  me.  His  eyes  shone  upon  me  with  a 
strong,  lambent  gleam,  out  of  the  shadows  of  the  night.  I 
was  chilled  and  bewildered  by  the  unexpected  disclosure 
of  our  rivalry,  and  nerved  myself  to  meet  his  coming  words, 
the  purport  of  which  I  began  to  forebode. 

"  John  Godfrey,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  low  voice,  which, 
by  its  forced  steadiness,  expressed  the  very  agitation  it 
should  have  concealed,  —  "  John  Godfrey,  there  is  no  use 
in  trying  to  disguise  the  truth  from  each  other.  You  would 
soon  discover  that  I  love  Isabel  Haworth,  and  I  prefer  tell- 
ing you  now.  You  and  I  have  been  friends,  but  if  you  are 
as  much  in  earnest  as  I  take  you  to  be,  we  are  from  this 
time  forth  rivals,  —  perhaps  enemies." 

He  paused.  I  tried  to  reflect  whether  this  hostile  re- 
lation —  for  so  his  words  presented  it  —  was  indeed  inev 
itable. 

"  Towards  another  man,"  he  continued,  "  I  should  not  be 
so  frank.  But  I  am  ready  to  show  you  my  hand,  because  I 
have  determined  to  win  the  game  in  spite  of  you.  I  have 


878  JOHN    GODFREY'S     FORTUNES. 

Cold  you  that  I  am  intensely  selfish,  and  what  my  nature 
demands  that  it  must  have.  You  are  in  my  way,  and  un- 
less you  prove  yourself  the  stronger,  I  shall  crush  you  down. 
I  don't  know  what  claims  you  make  to  the  possession  of 
this  girl,  —  but  it  is  not  necessary  to  measure  claims.  I 
admit  none  except  my  own.  When  Matilda  recommended 
her  to  me  as  an  eligible  match,  I  kept  away  from  her,  having 
no  mind  for  matches  de  convenance,  —  least  of  all,  of  Ma- 
tilda's making ;  but  little  by  little  I  learned  to  know  her 
I  saw,  not  her  fortune,  but  a  rare  and  noble  woman,  —  such 
a  woman  as  I  have  been  waiting  for,  —  welcome  to  me  as 
Morning  to  Night.  She  is  my  Eos,  —  my  Aurora." 

The  stern  defiance  of  his  voice  melted  away,  and  he 
pronounced  the  last  words  with  a  tender,  tremulous  music, 
which  showed  to  me  how  powerfully  his  heart  was  moved 
by  the  thought  of  her.  But  was  she  not  all  this  to  me  — 
and  more  ?  Not  alone  my  future  fortune,  but  compensation 
for  a  disappointed  past  ?  Yes :  I  felt  it,  as  never  before, 
and  grew  desperate  with  the  knowledge,  that,  whatever  the 
issue  might  be,  at  least  one  of  us  was  destined  to  be  un- 
happy forever. 

"  You  say  nothing,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  I  repeat  to  you 
I  shall  win  her.  Will  you  relinquish  the  field  ?  or  will  you 
follow  a  vain  hope,  and  make  us  enemies  ?  I  have  given 
you  fair  warning,  and  want  your  decision." 

"  You  shall  have  it  at  once,  Alexander,"  I  replied.  "  I 
vrill  be  equally  frank.  Like  you,  I  admit  no  claims  except 
my  own.  This  is  a  matter  in  which  your  fortune,  your 
superior  advantages  of  person  and  social  culture  give  you 
no  additional  right.  It  takes  more  than  your  own  will  to 
achieve  success :  you  seem  to  leave  her  out  of  the  account. 
So  long  as  she  has  not  spoken  against  me,  I  also  may  hope. 
I  will  not  relinquish  the  field.  You  say  I  love  her,  and 
you  ask  me  to  act  as  if  my  love  were  a  farce !  Rivals  we 
must  be  :  it  cannot  be  helped ;  but  I  will  tn  not  to  become 
your  enemy." 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  379 

He  laughed.  "  I  warn  you,"  he  said,  "  not  to  depend  o\ 
your  ideal  of  human  generosity  and  magnanimity.  If  yot 
are  fortunate,  —  I  simply  accept  your  own  supposition,  for 
the  moment.  —  you  would  not  feel  hostility  towards  me. 
Oh,  no !  the  fortunate  can  easily  be  generous.  But  don'i 
imagine  that  I  should  play  Pythias  to  your  Damon  in  that 
case,  or  that  you  will  be  any  more  inclined  to  do  it  for  me 
when  the  case  is  reversed.  No  ;  let  us  face  the  truth.  One 
of  us  will  never  forgive  the  other." 

"  It  may  be  as  you  say,"  I  answered,  sadly.  "  Would  to 
God  it  had  not  happened  so  ! " 

"  Cousin  John,"  cried  Penrose,  suddenly,  seizing  me  by 
the  hand,  "  I  know  the  world  better  than  you  do.  I  know 
that  love,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  can  be  kindled  and  made 
to  burn  by  the  breath  of  the  stronger  nature  that  craves  it 
1  am  cool-headed,  and  know  how  to  play  my  powers,  — 
yes,  my  passions,  if  need  be.  You  say  I  leave  her  out  of 
the  account,  but  it  is  only  because  I  believe  her  affections 
to  be  free.  The  question  is,  which  of  us  shall  first  catch 
and  hold  them  ?  I  shall  succeed,  because  I  most  need  to 
be  successful.  Think  what  a  cold,  isolated  existence  is 
mine,  —  how  few  human  beings  I  can  even  approach,  — 
and  of  those  few  what  a  miracle  that  one  forces  me  to  love 
her !  See,  then,  how  all  the  brightness  of  my  life  hangs 
on  this  chance.  Give  up  the  rivalry,  John  ;  it  is  not  life 
or  death  with  you  ;  you  have  friends ;  you  will  have  fame  ; 
yours  is  a  nature  to  form  new  ties  easily  ;  you  will  find  sun- 
shine somewhere  else  without  trying  to  rob  me  of  mine  !  " 

My  feelings  were  profoundly  touched  by  his  appeal,  and 
possibly  some  romantic  idea  of  generosity  may  have  weak- 
ened rny  resolution  for  a  moment.  My  heart,  however,  re- 
asserted its  right,  reminding  me  that  love  cancels  all  duties 
except  its  own.  Possibly  —  and  the  thought  stung  me  with 
a  sharp  sense  of  joy  —  I  was  speaking  for  her  life  as  well 
as  mine  But,  whether  or  not,  I  dared  not  yield  merely 
because  his  trumpet  sounded  a  boast  of  triumph  ;  I  must 
stand  and  meet  the  onset 


380  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  Alexander,"  I  said,  "  ask  me  anything  but  this.  Whet 
Esabel  Haworth  tells  me  with  her  own  lips  that  she  cannot 
ove  me,  I  will  stand  back  and  pray  God  to  turn  her  heart 
to  you.  But,  loving  her  as  I  do,  that  love,  uncertain  as  is 
its  fortune,  binds  me  to  sacred  allegiance.  While  it  lasts, 
I  dare  not  and  will  not  acknowledge  any  other  law.  [f  it 
meets  its  counterpart  in  her,  I  will  not  fear  the  powers  you 
may  bring  to  move  her,  —  she  is  mine,  though  all  the  world 
were  in  league  with  you.  I  shall  employ  no  arts  ;  I  shall 
take  no  unfair  advantage  ;  but  if  God  has  meant  her  for 
me,  I  shall  accept  the  blessing  when  He  chooses  to  place 
it  in  my  hands." 

Penrose  stood  silent,  with  folded  arms.  It  was  some 
time  before  he  spoke,  and  when  he  did  so,  it  was  with  a 
voice  singularly  changed  and  subdued.  "  I  might  have 
known  it  would  end  so,"  he  said  ;  "  there  is  another  strength  , 
which  is  as  stubborn  as  mine.  I  have  more  reason  to  fear 
you  than  I  supposed.  It  is  to  be  a  fight,  then  ;  better,  per- 
haps, with  you  than  with  another.  Hereafter  we  shall  meet 
with  lances  in  rest  and  visors  down.  Give  me  your  hand, 
John,  —  it  may  be  we  shall  never  shake  hands  again." 

Out  of  the  night  flashed  a  picture  of  the  wild  dell  in 
Honeybrook,  and  the  dark-eyed  boy,  first  stretching  out  a 
cousin's  hand  to  me  from  his  seat  on  the  mossy  log.  Was 
the  picture  also  in  his  mind  that  our  hands  clung  to  each 
other  so  closely  and  so  long?  I  could  have  sobbed  for 
very  grief  and  tenderness,  if  my  heart  had  not  been  held 
by  a  passion  too  powerful  for  tears. 

We  walked  side  by  side  down  Broadway.  Neither  spoke 
a  word  until  we  parted  with  a  quiet  "  Good-night ! "  at  the 
corner  of  Bleecker  Street.  There  was  but  one  contingency 
which  might  bring  us  together  again  as  we  were  of  old.  — 
disappointment  to  both. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  885 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

WHICH    BRINGS    A    THUNDERBOLT. 

DURING  my  interview  with  Penrose,  I  was  supported  bj 
lb*<  strength  of  an  excitement  which  stimulated  all  my 
powers  of  mind  and  heart.  The  reaction  followed,  and 
showed  me  how  desperate  were  my  chances.  He  was  in 
every  respect  —  save  the  single  quality  of  fidelity  —  my 
superior  ;  and  unless  she  should  discover  that  hidden  virtue 
in  me,  and  accept  it  as  outweighing  culture,  brilliancy, 
and  manly  energy,  there  was  every  probability  that  she 
would  prefer  my  cousin,  if  called  upon  to  choose  between 
us.  The  first  impression  which  he  produced  upon  her  did 
not  seem  to  be  favorable,  but  I  drew  little  comfort  there- 
from. His  face  was  "  not  easily  read,"  she  had  said,  which 
only  indicated  that  she  had  not  yet  read  it.  Certain  ob- 
vious characteristics  may  clash,  even  while  the  two  natures 
are  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  in  the  mystic,  eternal  har- 
mony of  love.  On  the  other  hand,  I  had  flattered  my 
hopes  from  the  discovery  of  points  of  sympathy,  little 
tokens  of  mutual  attraction ;  but  how  deep  did  those  signs 
reach  ?  Had  I  any  right  to  assume  that  they  expressed 
more  on  her  side  than  that  aesthetic  satisfaction  which 
earnest  minds  derive  from  contact  ?  Possessing  literary 
tastes,  she  might  feel  some  interest  in  me  as  a  young  author. 
It  was  all  dark  and  doubtful,  and  I  shrank  from  making 
the  only  venture  which  would  bring  certainty. 

I  had  congratulated  myself  on  the  force  of  character, 
which,  I  fancied,  had  fully  developed  itself  out  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  my  life.  JSo  doubt  I  had  made  a  great  stride 


382  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

forwards,  —  no  doubt  I  was  rapidly  becoming  independent 
and  self-reliant,  —  but  the  transformation  was  far  from 
being  complete.  This  new  uncertainty  set  me  adrift.  My 
will  seemed  as  yet  but  the  foundation  of  a  pier,  not  suffi- 
ciently raised  above  the  shifting  tides  of  my  feelings  to 
support  the  firm  arch  of  fortune.  I  envied  Penrose  the 
possession  of  his  more  imperious,  determined  quality.  More- 
over, the  gulf  into  which  I  had  looked  was  not  yet  sealed 
there  were  hollow  echoes  under  my  thoughts,  —  incredulous 
whispers  mocked  the  voice  of  my  hope,  —  and  at  tunes  a 
dark,  inexorable  Necessity  usurped  the  government  of 
Life. 

Through  all  these  fluctuations,  my  love  remained  warm 
an  dun  wavering.  I  clung  to  it,  and  order  gradually  returned 
out  of  the  apparent  chaos.  It  contained  the  promise  of 
Faith,  of  reconciliation  with  the  perverted  order  of  the 
world. 

I  now  recalled,  with  a  sense  of  shame,  my  neglect  of 
Jane  Berry  since  the  night  of  her  rescue,  and  made  it  a 
point  to  visit  Gooseberry  Alley  next  morning,  before  going 
down  town.  I  found  her  in  Mary  Maloney's  kitchen,  as- 
sisting the  latter  in  starching  her  linen.  Her  hair  was 
smoothly  and  neatly  arranged,  the  bright  color  had  come 
back  to  her  face,  and  she  was,  in  truth,  a  very  pretty,  at- 
tractive girl.  A  joyous  light  sparkled  in  her  eyes  when 
she  first  looked  up,  on  my  entrance,  but  her  lids  then  fell 
and  a  deep  blush  mantled  her  cheeks. 

"  And  it 's  a  long  time  ye  take,  before  you  show  y'rself, 
Mr.  Godfrey,"  exclaimed  Mary  Maloney.  "  Here 's  Miss 
Jenny  was  beginnin'  to  think  she  'd  niver  see  ye  agin." 

"  You  might  have  told  her  better,  Mary,"  I  said.  "  1 
have  been  remiss,  I  know,  Miss  Berry,  but  I  wanted  to  dis- 
cover some  chance  of  employment  for  you  before  calling. 
1  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  have  found  nothing  yet." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  she  answered,  "  and  I  don't  wish 
to  trouble  you  more  than  can  be  helped.  Mary  has  been 


JOHN  GODFBEY'S  FORTUNES.  -'583 

making  inquiries,  and  she  expects  to  get  some  work  for  me 
very  soon." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary ;  "  she  's  frettin'  herself,  for  fear  that 
she  's  a  burden  on  me  ;  but,  indade,  she  ates  no  more  than 
a  bird,  and  it  is  n't  me  that 's  hard  put  to  it  to  live,  since 
Hugh  aims  his  six  dollars  a  wake.  He  pays  the  rint,  ivery 
bit  of  it,  and  keeps  hisself  in  clothes,  and  I  don't  begrudge 
the  lad  a  shillin'  or  so  o'  spendin'-money,  as  well  as  his 
aiquals.  I  have  my  health,  God  be  praised,  and  indade  the 
company  she  's  to  me  seems  to  give  me  a  power  o'  sperrit 
But  there  's  them  that  don't  like  to  be  beholden  to  others, 
and  I  can't  say  as  I  blame  'em." 

"  Oh,  it  is  n't  that,  Mary,"  here  Jane  Berry  interposed  ; 
"  I  'm  sure  you  have  n't  allowed  me  to  feel  that  I  was  a 
burden,  but  I  am  really  able  to  earn  my  own  living,  and 
something  more,  I  hope.  It 's  what  I  want  to  do,  and  I 
can't  feel  exactly  satisfied  until  I  'm  in  the  way  of  it" 

I  felt  ashamed  of  my  neglect,  and  resolved  to  atone  for 
it  as  soon  as  might  be.  I  assured  Jane  Berry  that  I  should 
take  immediate  steps  to  secure  her  steady  employment. 
But  I  could  not  say  to  her  all  that  I  desired  ;  Mary  Malo- 
ney  was  in  the  way.  I  therefore  adopted  the  transparent 
expedient  of  taking  leave,  going  part  way  down  the  stairs, 
and  then  returning  suddenly  to  the  door,  as  if  some  mes- 
sage had  been  forgotten. 

She  came  hurriedly,  at  my  call.  I  remained  standing  on 
the  upper  step,  obliging  her  to  cross  the  landing,  the  breadth 
of  which  and  the  intervening  room  removed  us  almost  be- 
yond earshot  of  the  Irishwoman. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you,"  I  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  some- 
what embarrassed  how  to  begin,  kk  whether  she  knows  any- 
thing." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  It  seems  to  me  that 
everybody  must  mistrust  me ;  —  but  I  've  been  afraid  to  tell 
her." 

-  Say  nothing,  then,  for  the  present.     But  you  wanted  t»' 


884  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

give  me  your  history,  and  it  must  be  told  somewhere  else 
than  here.  Could  you  go  up  into  Washington  Square,  some 
evening,  and  meet  me  ?  You  can  say  you  need  a  walk  and 
fresh  air,  or  you  can  make  an  errand  of  some  kind." 

She  appeared  to  hesitate,  and  I  added,  ••  The  sooner  1 
know  more  about  you,  the  better  I  may  be  able  to  assist 
you." 

"  I  will  come,  then,"  she  faltered,  "  but  please  let  it  be 
some  dark  evening,  when  I  would  run  no  risk  of  meeting 

o7  o 

her,  —  that  woman.  You  've  saved  me  once,  and  you  would 
n't  want  me  to  run  into  danger  again,  sir  ?  " 

"  God  forbid  !     Choose  your  own  time." 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days,  with  the  aid  of  Mary  Malo- 
ney,  I  procured  an  engagement  for  plain  needle-work,  not 
very  well  paid,  it  was  true,  but  still  a  beginning  which 
would  serve  to  allay  her  scruples  and  give  her  encourage- 
ment to  continue  the  work  of  self-redemption.  The  estab- 
lishment was  in  the  upper  part  of  the  Bowery,  and  the  pro- 
prietors required  her  to  work  on  the  spot,  in  company  with 
a  score  of  other  needle-women,  —  an  arrangement  which  she 
was  nervously  loath  to  accept,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

On  the  following  Saturday  night  I  met  Miss  Haworth, 
quite  unexpectedly,  at  a  literary  soiree.  I  was  listening  to 
a  conversation  between  a  noted  author  and  an  artist  whose 
allegorical  pictures  were  much  admired  in  certain  quarters. 
The  latter  asserted  that  a  man  must  himself  first  feel  what- 
ever he  seeks  to  express,  —  must  believe  before  he  can  rep- 
resent ;  in  other  words,  that  the  painter  must  be  a  devout 
Christian  before  he  can  paint  a  Holy  Family,  or  the  poet  a 
Catholic  before  he  can  write  a  good  hymn  to  the  Virgin 
The  author  adduced  Shakspeare  as  an  evidence  of  the  oo- 
jective  power  of  genius,  which  can  project  itself  into  the 
very  heart  of  a  great  range  of  characters  and  recreate  them 
for  its  purposes.  I  was  greatly  interested  in  the  discussion, 
and  naturally  inclined  to  the  artist's  views.  Not  recognizing 
my  own  limited  powers,  my  immaturity  of  mind  and  habit 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  38o 

of  measuring  other  men  by  my  individual  standard,  I  was 
glad  to  find  a  fact,  true  of  myself,  asserted  as  a  general  law. 
I  expressed,  very  warmly,  my  belief  that  hypocrisy  —  as  I . 
called  it  —  was  impossible  in  Art ;  only  that  which  a  mar 
really  was,  could  he  successfully  express  in  words,  on  can- 
vas, or  in  marble. 

Suddenly  I  turned  my  head  with  the  vague  impression 
that  somebody  was  listening  to  me,  and  encountered  Miss 
Haworth's  eyes.  She  was  one  of  a  lively  group  who  were 
commenting  on  a  proof-engraving  of  one  of  Kaulbach's 
cartoons,  just  imported  from  Europe,  and  appeared  to  have 
only  turned  aside  her  head  for  a  moment.  She  acknowl- 
edged my  bow,  but  her  eyes  fell,  and  when  I  sought  her,  as 
soon  as  I  could  escape  from  the  discussion,  her  usual  ease 
and  grace  of  manner  seemed  to  have  been  disturbed.  The 
soft,  sweet  eyes  rather  shunned  than  sought  mine  while  she 
spoke,  and  her  words  were  so  mechanical  as  to  denote  ab- 
straction of  mind.  I  feared,  almost,  that  Penrose  had 
hinted  at  my  passion,  but  the  next  moment  acquitted  him 
of  this  breach  of  faith,  and  began  to  wonder  whether  she 
did  not  suspect  it.  If  so,  I  felt  that  I  had  strong  reason  to 
hope.  The  serenity  of  her  nature  was  evidently  troubled, 
yet  she  did  not  avoid  or  repel  me.  On  the  contrary,  I  knew 
that  her  glances  followed  me.  Without  daring  to  watch 
her,  I  walked  in  the  light  and  warmth  of  her  eyes,  in  an 
intoxication  of  the  heart  which  continually  whispered  to  it- 
self, "  Your  time  has  come,  —  you  shall  be  blessed  at  last ! " 

Now  I  might  venture  to  declare  my  love ;  for,  even  if  its 
growth  in  me  should  encounter  only  its  first  timid  develop- 
ment in  her,  I  should  still  be  sure  of  the  end.  But  it  re- 
quired more  resolution  than  I  had  supposed  to  take  the 
important  step.  Perhaps  Penrose  had  anticipated  me,  and 
—  though  unsuccessful,  or  rather,  because  of  it  —  had  un- 
tuned her  heart  for  a  time.  Should  I  not  wait  for  an  inti- 
macy which  might  foreshadow  its  object?  Then  the  image 
of  Amanda  Bratton  perversely  returned  to  annoy  me. 

25 


386  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

Some  devilish  attribute  of  memory  held  up,  face  to  face 
and  forced  me  to  see  again  my  boyish  raptures,  my  stolen 
embraces,  and  the  mockery  of  my  final  interview.  It  was 
profanation  to  Isabel  Haworth  to  couple  her  image  with 
that  other,  but  the  latter  had  left  its  impress  on  my  life, 
and  its  cold,  hard  features  glimmered  through  the  warm 
tints  of  the  ne_w  picture. 

I  remember  that  I  walked  the  streets  much  at  this  time, 
and  I  think  it  was  in  one  of  those  aimless  walks  that  I  met 
Jane  Berry  returning  from  her  day's  labor.  Her  face  was 
covered  by  a  thick  veil,  and  I  did  not  recognize  her,  but 
she  stopped  and  said,  hesitatingly,  "  Mr.  Godfrey  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,  Jane  ;  are  you  going  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  am  ready  to  keep  my  promise,  if  you  wish  it, 
sir.  It 's  on  my  mind  and  troubles  me,  and  I  may  as  well 
begin  first  as  last." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I ;  "  here  is  Fourth  Street.  We  shall 
find  the  square  empty  at  this  hour,  and  it 's  your  nearest 
way  home." 

It  was  a  cloudy  evening  and  the  dusk  was  rapidly  deep- 
ening into  night.  The  gas  already  flared  in  the  Broadway 
shops,  and  the  lamplighters  were  going  their  rounds  from 
one  street-corner  to  another.  There  were  few  persons  in 
Fourth  Street,  and  as  I  walked  down  it,  beside  Jane  Berry, 
I  was  conscious  that  my  interest  in  her  had  somewhat  faded. 
Her  rescue  (if  it  might  be  called  so)  was  a  thing  of  the 
past,  and  the  romantic  victim  had  become  a  commonplace 
sempstress,  —  to  be  looked  after,  of  course,  and  restored  to 
her  family  as  soon  as  practicable  ;  but  I  felt  that  I  should 
be  relieved  of  an  embarrassing  responsibility  when  this 
duty  had  been  discharged. 

Thus  occupied  with  my  thoughts,  we  reached  the  south- 
ern gate  of  the  square,  and  I  stopped.  The  girl  looked  at 
me  as  if  expecting  me  to  speak.  She  wanted  courage  to 
commence,  and  I  therefore  asked,  — 

"Are  you  willing  to  tell  me  where  your  home  is?" 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  38< 

"  In  Hackpttstown,  sir,"  she  answered.  "  Though  we 
used  to  live  in  Belvidere.  My  father  and  brother  are  rafts- 
men. I  came  to  Hackettstown  to  learn  the  trade  from  an 
aunt  of  mine  —  my  father's  sister  —  who  lives  there,  and 
does  a  good  business.  In  the  summer  she  works  a  good 
deal  for  the  quality  at  Schooley's  Mountain,  and  that 's  how 
I  became  acquainted  with  —  with  him.  Oh,  pray,  sir,  don't 
ask  me  to  tell  you  his  name  ! " 

"  No,  Jane,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  care  to  hear  it  It  is  enough 
to  know  what  he  is." 

"  He  was  staying  at  the  hotel,  too,"  she  continued.  "  Some 
times  I  went  up  in  the  stage,  on  errands  for  my  aunt,  and 
walked  back  down  the  mountain.  He  used  to  meet  me 
and  keep  me  company.  I  was  n't  taken  with  him  at  first, 
he  spoke  so  bold  and  would  stare  me  out  of  countenance. 
Then  he  changed,  and  seemed  to  be  so  humble,  and  talked 
in  a  low  voice,  and  put  me  above  all  the  quality  at  the  ho- 
tel, and  said  he  loved  me  truly  and  would  make  a  lady  of 
me.  I  began  to  like  his  talk,  then  :  I  was  foolish,  and  be- 
lieved whatever  he  said.  Nobody  before  ever  praised  me 
so,  —  not  even  —  oh,  sir !  that  was  the  worst  thing  I  did  ! 
There  was  another  that  loved  me,  I  am  sure  of  it,  and  — 
and  I  am  afraid  now  that  I  love  him  !  What  will  become 
of  me?" 

She  burst  into  a  fit  of  passionate  weeping.  I  saw  by  the 
lamp  that  her  face  was  pale  and  her  limbs  trembling,  and 
feared  that  her  agitation  might  overcome  her.  I  put  one 
arm  around  her  waist  to  support  her.  bent  down  and  tried 
to  cheer  her  with  soothing  words.  Fortunately  there  was 
no  one  near,  —  only  a  carriage  dashed  along,  and  the  coach- 
man pulled  up,  as  if  about  to  stop  at  the  opposite  corner. 
I  involuntarily  drew  her  away  from  under  the  lamp,  and 
into  the  shade  of  the  trees  beyond. 

"  Tell  me  no  more,"  I  said,  "  if  it  pains  you  to  do  so." 

"  I  've  told  you  the  worst  now.  I  don't  understand  it  at 
ill.  I  can  see  the  difference  between  the  two,  in  thinking 


388  JOHN   GODFR£PS   FORTUNES. 

over  what 's  happened,  but  then  I  was  charmed,  as  I  hav€ 
heard  say  that  a  bird  is  charmed  by  a  rattlesnake.  The 
other  one  would  n't  praise  me,  —  I  thought  him  readier  to 
scold,  but  oh  !  he  meant  it  for  my  good.  It  was  pleasant 
to  be  told  that  I  was  handsome,  —  that  I  had  good  manners, 
and  that  I  should  be  a  rich  man's  wife,  and  ride  in  my  own 
carriage  and  live  in  ease  all  my  life.  Then,  sir,  there  was 
to  be  a  farm  bought  for  father,  —  it  was  only  to  say  yes, 
and  everything  should  be  just  as  I  wanted,  as  fine  as  a  fairy 
tale.  And  I  believed  it  all !  Only  the  going  away  so  se- 
cretly troubled  me,  but  he  said  we  would  be  back  in  two  or 
three  days,  and  then  what  a  surprise  !  The  two  other  girls 
would  be  ready  to  tear  my  eyes  out,  for  spite  at  my  great 
fortune  ;  —  oh,  and  I  dare  n't  look  them  in  the  face  now. 
So  we  went  away  in  the  train,  and  I  thought  it  was  his  house 
he  took  me  to  "  — 

She  stopped  here,  unable  to  say  more.  It  was  needless : 
I  could  guess  the  rest.  I  saw  the  vanity  and  shallowness 
of  the  girl's  nature,  but  a  fearful  retribution  had  followed 
her  false  step,  and  it  was  not  for  me  to  condemn  her  in  her 
shame.  But  I  stretched  forth  my  arm  and  crooked  my 
fingers,  thirsting  to  close  them  around  the  throat  of  tho 
villain  who  had  deceived  her. 

"  You  do  not  wish  to  return,  then  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Would 
not  your  aunt  receive  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  thinking  it  all  over.  If  I  could  say  that  I 
have  been  at  work,  and  have  a  little  money  to  show  for  it, 
and  maybe  a  recommendation  from  the  people  I  work  for, 
you  see,  sir,  it  would  n't  look  quite  so  bad.  Only  I  might 
have  to  lie.  That  would  be  dreadful ;  but  I  think  it  \vould 
be  more  dreadful  for  me  to  tell  the  truth.  Do  you  think, 
sir.  that  God  would  forgive  me  for  the  lie  ?  " 

Her  simple  question  brought  confusion  upon  my  ethics. 
I  was  really  unable  to  answer  it.  On  the  one  hand,  the 
unforgiving  verdict  of  the  world, : —  a  life  hopelessly  dis- 
graced by  the  confession  of  the  truth  ;  on  the  other,  a  posi 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  3B£ 

the  sin,  offering  the  means  of  atoning  for  sin  and  repairing 
a  ruined  life  ! 

After  a  long  pause  I  said,  "  God  must  answer  that  ques 
tion  for  you.  Go  to  Him  and  wait  patiently  until  His  will 
shall  be  manifest.  But  perhaps  you  are  right  in  not  wish- 
ing  to  return  at  once.  I  hoped  you  might  have  enabled 
me  to  assist  you,  but  it  seems  best,  now,  that  you  should 
depend  on  yourself,  unless  —  you  spoke  of  another  "  — 

"•  Don't  mention  him  ! "  she  cried.  "  I  must  try  not  to 
think  of  him  any  more.  He  's  as  proud  as  the  richest,  and 
would  trample  me  into  the  dust  at  his  feet." 

I  saw  that  any  further  allusion  to  this  subject  would  be 
inflicting  useless  pain,  and  proposed  that  she  should  return 
to  her  lodgings.  On  the  way  I  encouraged  her  with  prom- 
ises of  procuring  better  employment.  I  already  began  to 
plan  what  might  be  done,  if  Isabel  Haworth  should  give 
herself  to  me,  —  I  would  interest  her  in  Jane  Berry's  fate, 
and  that  once  accomplished,  all  the  rest  would  be  easy. 
It  was  a  case,  moreover,  for  a  woman's  delicate  hand  to 
conduct,  rather  than  a  young  man  like  myself. 

I  was  fearful  lest  Mary  Maloney  might  notice  the  traces 
of  the  girl's  agitation,  and  therefore  exerted  myself  to  turn 
the  conversation  into  a  cheerful  channel.  On  reaching 
Gooseberry  Alley  I  went  with  her  into  the  tenement-house, 
partly  to  divert  the  Irishwoman's  attention.  Feeny,  smok- 
ing his  pipe  at  the  front-window,  looked  down  and  grinned, 
as  we  waited  on  the  steps  for  the  opening  of  the  door. 

Up-stairs,  in  the  little  back-kitchen,  the  table  was  spread 
for  supper,  and  Hugh,  with  his  shirt-sleeves  rolled  up  as 
usual,  was  attending  to  the  frying  of  some  bacon.  The  lid 
of  the  tea-kettle  danced  an  irregular  jig  to  a  tune  whistled 
by  the  steam,  and  the  aspect  of  the  room  was  as  cheery  as 
its  atmosphere  was  appetizing.  Mary  Maloney  dusted  the 
stool  and  handed  it  to  me,  saying,  — 

"  Sure,  now,  and  would  you  take  a  cup  o'  tay  wi*  thf 
tikes  of  MS?" 


390  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

I  assented  very  willingly,  and  drank  the  cheap  tea,  out 
of  a  grotesque  cup  of  "  rale  chaney,  brought  from  th'  old 
country,"  with  a  relish.  Hugh,  since  his  promotion  to 
wages  and  his  enrolment  as  a  fireman,  had  acquired  quite 
a  man'y  air,  but  he  struck  me  as  being  more  taciturn  than 
ever.  The  red  curls  were  clipped  close  to  his  hard,  round 
head,  and  his  freckled  chin  was  beginning  to  look  stubby. 
When  he  spoke  his  voice  betrayed  the  most  comical  mixt- 
ure of  the  Irish  brogue  and  the  Bowery  drawl.  I  caught 
huii  several  tunes  looking  at  me  with  a  singular,  questioning 
expression  which  puzzled  me.  The  idea  came  into  my 
head,  without  any  discoverable  reason,  that  he  disliked  me. 
Nevertheless,  when  his  mother  commanded  him  to  light  me 
to  the  street,  he  obeyed  with  alacrity,  going  in  advance, 
and  shading  the  dip  with  his  big  hand,  to  throw  the  most 
of  its  rays  on  the  rickety  steps. 

I  had  not  seen  Mrs.  Deering  since  my  first  visit  after  Ler 
return  to  the  city.  She  was  "  indisposed,"  and  her  husband, 
whom  I  encountered  in  Broadway,  informed  me  that  Fashion 
prohibited  her  from  appearing  in  society  for  three  or  four 
months.  It  was  therefore  useless  to  count  on  the  chances 
of  meeting  Miss  Haworth  at  her  residence,  and  there  was 
no  certain  way  left  to  me  but  to  repeat  my  call  in  Gra- 
mercy  Park.  I  had  now  determined  on  the  final  venture, 
and  only  sought  a  lucky  occasion.  Twice  or  thrice  I  scouted 
around  the  house  before  finding  appearances  propitious ; 
once  there  was  a  carriage  in  waiting,  and  another  time  I 
distinctly  recognized  the  shadow  of  Mr.  Floyd  crossing  the 
window-blinds.  It  was  rather  singular,  I  thought,  that  I 
did  not  happen  to  meet  Penrose. 

At  last,  it  seemed  that  I  had  hit  upon  the  right  moment 
The  house  was  still,  and  the  servant  informed  me  that  Miss 
Haworth  was  at  home.  I  gave  my  name  and  entered  the 
parlor  to  await  her  coming.  I  was  in  a  state  of  fever ; 
my  cheeks  burned,  my  throat  was  parched,  and  my  heart 
throbbed  so  as  almost  to  take  away  my  breath.  I  strove 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  89  J 

to  collect  my  thoughts  and  arrange  my  approaches  to  the 
important  question,  but  the  endeavor  was  quite  useless 
not  only  Amanda,  but  Penrose,  Floyd,  and  Miss  Levi,  sent 
their  wraiths  to  perplex  me.  The  cold  gray  eyes  of  one 
woman,  the  powerful  Oriental  orbs  of  the  other,  were  upon 
rue.  while  each  of  the  male  rivals  stretched  out  a  hand  to 
pull  me  back.  What  was  I  —  an  unknown  country  youth, 
hardly  more  than  an  adventurer  as  yet  —  to  overleap,  with 
easy  triumph,  all  the  influences  banded  against  me  ? 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  coming  footstep.  Swallowing 
down,  by  a  mighty  effort,  a  part  of  my  agitation,  I  leaned 
on  the  back  of  a  fauteuil,  and  looked  at  the  reflected  door 
in  a  large  mirror  between  the  windows.  It  opened  swiftly, 
but  the  figure  mirrored  the  next  moment  was  not  that  of 
Miss  Haworth.  It  was  a  servant-girl  who  was  quick  enough 
to  deliver  her  errand. 

"  Miss  Haworth  says  she 's  not  able  to  see  you  this  even- 
ing, sir,"  she  said ;  "  and  here  's  a  note  she 's  sent  down." 

I  took  it,  —  a  folded  slip  of  paper,  without  any  address, 
but  sealed  at  one  corner. 

"  It  is  for  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes  —  sir ! "  the  girl  replied,  very  emphatically. 

I  opened  it ;  there  were  only  two  lines,  — 

"  Miss  Haworth  informs  Mr.  Godfrey  that  her  acquaint 
ance  with  him  has  ceased." 

The  words  were  so  unexpected  —  so  astounding  —  that 
I  could  not  at  once  comprehend  their  meaning.  I  felt 
marvellously  calm,  but  I  must  have  turned  very  pale,  for 
I  noticed  that  the  girl  watched  me  with  a  frightened  air. 
My  first  impression  was  that  the  note  was  a  forgery. 

"  Who  gave  you  this  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  She  did,  sir.     I  waited  while  she  wrote  it" 

"  Is  Mr.  Tracy  Floyd  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  he  dined  out  to-day,  and  has  n't  come  bach 
yet" 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be   said.     I   crushed   the 


392  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

slip  of  paper  in  my  fingers,  mechanically  thrust  it  into 
my  vest-pocket,  and  walked  out  of  the  house.  I  walked 
on  and  on,  paying  no  heed  to  my  feet,  —  neither  thinking 
nor  feeling,  hardly  aware  of  who  I  was.  My  nature  was 
in  the  benumbed,  semi-unconscious  state  which  follows  a 
stroke  of  lightning.  There  was  even  a  vague,  feeble  effort 
at  introversion,  during  which  I  whispered  to  myself,  au- 
dibly, —  "  It  don't  seem  to  make  much  difference." 

A  lumber-yard  arrested  my  progress.  I  looked  around, 
and  found  myself  in  a  dark,  quiet  region  of  the  city,  un- 
known to  me.  Over  the  piles  of  boards,  I  could  see  the 
masts  of  sloops.  I  had  followed  Twentieth  Street,  it  ap- 
peared, across  to  the  North  River.  I  now  turned  down 
Eleventh  Avenue,  and  walked  until  I  came  to  a  pier.  The 
dark  water  which  I  heard,  surging  in  from  pile  to  pile,  with 
a  whishing  thud  at  each,  called  me  with  an  irresistible  voice. 
I  was  not  conscious  of  any  impulse  to  plunge  in  and  fathom 
the  wearisome  mystery  of  life  ;  but  if  I  had  accidentally 
walked  off  the  pier  in  the  darkness,  I  would  scarcely  have 
taken  the  trouble  to  cry  for  help. 

The  pier-watchman  confronted  me  with  a  rough,  —  "  What 
do  you  want  here  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  I  said. 

"Who  are  you?" 

«  Nobody." 

"  Then  take  yourself  off,  Mr.  Nobody,  or  I  '11  make  a 
Somebody  of  you." 

I  obeyed  him. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.         89C' 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

IK    WHICH    I    BEGIN    TO    GO    DOWNWARDS. 

IT  struck  nine  o'clock  when  I  reached  my  lodgings.  1 
«ras  half-way  up  the  first  flight  of  steps  when  I  suddenly 
asked  myself  the  question,  "  What  am  I  going  to  do  ?  "  M\ 
duties  called  me  to  the  newspaper-office,  but  I  felt  that  I 
was  fit  neither  for  labor,  sleep,  nor  solitude.  My  only  con- 
scious desire  was  oblivion  of  the  Present,  —  escape  from 
myself.  After  a  moment's  reflection  I  turned,  descended 
the  stairs,  went  out  of  the  house,  and  made  my  way  straight 
to  Crosby  Street 

Miles  welcomed  me  with,  "  Glad  to  see  you,  sir,  —  most 
of  the  gents  is  in,"  —  and,  as  he  spoke,  the  Avenger's 
reporter  issued  from  the  Cave. 

<k  You  're  just  in  time,  Godfrey,"  said  the  latter ;  "  they  're 
in  the  humor  for  making  a  night  of  it.  I  wish  I  could  stay, 
but  the  Election  plays  the  deuce  with  one's  pleasures.  No 
less  than  three  meetings  to-night:  I  must  down  to  the 
office,  and  out  again." 

"  Then,"  I  observed,  "  you  can  do  me  a  favor.  I  must 
write  a  line  to  Severn.  Will  you  drop  it  in  the  business 
office,  to  be  sent  up  to  him?" 

I  got  a  scrap  of  paper  from  Miles,  scribbled  a  few  hasiy 
words  saying  that  I  was  ill  and  unable  to  attend  to  my 
work,  inclosed  it  in  a  brown  envelope  and  gave  it  to  the 
reporter.  Having  thus  shirked  my  duties,  I  entered  the 
Cave. 

The  usual  company  was  assembled,  with  the  exception 
of  Brandagee,  who,  however,  had  promised  to  be  present 


804  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

The  plan  of  the  Cily  Oracle  had  been  revived,  I  was 
informed,  and  this  time  there  would  be  no  mistake. 
There  were  two  additions  to  the  company,  both  of  them 
smart,  comic  writers,  whose  debut  in  the  Sunday  papers 
had  been  immensely  successful,  while  "the  millstone,"  as 
Brandagee  was  accustomed  to  call  Mr.  Ponder,  had  been 
fortunately  removed.  He  had  found  a  congenial  place,  as 
the  writer  of  moral  essays  for  a  religious  weekly,  and  came 
no  more  to  the  Ichneumon. 

"  I  met  him  yesterday  at  the  corner  of  the  Bible  House." 
said  Smithers,  "and  I  believe  the  fellow  would  have* cut 
my  acquaintance  if  he  had  dared.  He  was  so  pompously 
proper  and  pious  that  I  said,  '  Have  you  a  tract  to  spare  ? ' 
and  turned  down  the  collar  of  his  overcoat,  to  see  if  he 
wore  a  white  cravat.  But  what  can  you  expect  from  the 
lymphatic  temperament  ?  There  's  no  muscle  about  him, 
only  adipose  substance,  and  his  neck  is  as  thin  as  the 
back  of  a  rail." 

Smithers  untied  his  scarlet  cravat  and  loosened  his 
shirt-collar,  as  if  to  show  that,  his  neck  was  the  reverse  of 
i;hin, —  and,  indeed,  it  bore  no  slight  resemblance  to  a 
plethoric  column  of  the  Indian  cave-temples,  surmounted 
by  its  poppy-head  capital.  He  would  have  accepted  this 
comparison  as  a  compliment  He  knew  just  enough  of 
the  Indian  mythology  to  suppose  that  some  of  its  features 
were  rude,  primitive  forms  of  his  own  philosophy  of  life  ; 
he  also  adored  the  symbol  of  Siva,  but  under  a  less 
exalted  significance. 

All  the  initiation-fees  of  our  clique  or  club  had  been 
contributed  long  since,  and  each  individual  was  now  forced 
to  pay  for  his  own  refreshment ;  yet  this  necessity  seemed 
to  be  no  embarrassment  There  might  be  no  funds  on 
hand  for  a  new  coat  or  pair  of  boots,  but  there  was  always 
enough  for  beer.  I  ordered  a  Toby  of  old  ale,  and  drank 
it  down,  at  one  breath,  from  the  cock  of  the  hat.  Mears 
immediately  drew  a  caricature  of  me,  holding  a  barra' 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  89£ 

aloft  by  the  chines,  with  the  bung-hole  over  my  opet 
mouth.  Miles  was  an  infallible  judge  of  ales,  and  the 
keen,  ripe  fluid  brought  life  and  warmth  back  to  my  stag- 
nant blood.  I  was  too  reckless  to  stop  short  of  any  extrav 
agance,  whether  of  potation  or  of  speech. 

"  Godfrey,  is  it  to  be  an  epic  or  a  tragedy  ?  "  cried  Mears. 
u  You  've  got  a  thirsty  idea  in  your  head,  —  a  big  plant,  I 
should  say.  to  require  so  much  irrigation."  Then  he  roared 
out  a  stanza  of  the  old  bacchanal  of  Walter  de  Mapes, 
which  he  had  learned  to  sing  at  Dusseldorf. 

"  Tales  versus  facio,  quale  vinum  bibo ; 
Neque  possum  scribere,  nisi  siunto  cibo ; 
Nihil  valet  penitus  quod  jejunus  scribo; 
Nasonem  post  calices  carmine  pneibo." 

"  That  sounds  more  like  a  jubilate  for  a  birth  than  a 
mass  for  the  dead,"  said  Brandagee,  entering  the  room. 
"  Has  any  of  you  just  been  delivered  ?  " 

"  It 's  the  inauguration  hymn  for  the  Oracle"  I  retorted, 
"  and  you  are  just  in  time  to  give  the  opening  address." 

"  Here  it  is,  —  Babcock  has  come  to  terms.  This  time 
we  shall  begin  with  the  Opera,  and  I  fancy  we  '11  make  a 
sensation.  The  Impresario  is  all  right ;  I  've  just  had  a 
bottle  with  him  at  Curet's.  Now  to  lubricate  my  tongue, 

—  what  can  I  take  after  Be'aume  ?  " 
"  Whiskey,"  suggested  Smithers. 

"  Yes,  if  I  could  order  one  of  your  famous  'long-shore- 
men's stomachs  with  it  But  my  taste  is  delicate  to-night, 

—  I  want  claret.     Who  11  lend  me  money  at  the  risk  of 
never  bein^  repaid  ?  " 

N  ;  e  of  the  others  were  eager  to  embrace  the  risk, 
which  noticing,  I  handed  Brandagee  a  five-dollar  note 
across  the  table.  The  money  had  no  value  to  me  now, 
and  I  wanted  the  help  of  his  reckless  fancy  and  his  auda- 
cious tongue. 

'*  Godfrey,  you  deserve  to  make  heavier  profits,"  said  he 
u  I  '11  put  you  in  the  way  of  it  for  the  sake  of  a  loan  non 


396  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

and  then.  Meanwhile  you  shall  have  the  half  of  what  this 
brings,  and  I  '11  continue  to  owe  you  the  whole  of  it.  In 
that  way  we  shall  both  gain  by  the  operation." 

Amid  much  laughter  the  order  was  given,  and  we  were 
fairly  launched  on  the  fun  of  the  evening.  Miles,  who  was 
always  in  a  good  humor  when  there  was  a  certainty  of  our 
spending  a  respectable  sum,  contributed  a  handful  of 
cigars,  and  the  air  of  the  room  soon  put  on  its  blue 
mysterious  density,  severe  upon  the  eyes,  but  stimulating 
to  the  imagination. 

" About  the  Oracle"  said  Brandagee,  throwing  his  heels 
upon  another  chair  and  settling  himself  comfortably  for 
talk,  —  "  we  must  seriously  begin  to  work  for  it.  I  think  it 
would  be  best  to  open  the  first  number  with  a  burlesque 
platform,  in  the  style  of  the  political  papers,  —  making  our 
principles  so  broad  that  they  would  just  amount  to  none  at 
all.  I  had  it  in  mind  to  copy  the  plan  of  Le  Flaneur, 
which  came  out  while  I  was  in  Paris.  There  was  nothing 
about  it  to  indicate  a  new  paper :  the  leader  began,  '  In  our 
article  of  yesterday  we  said '  so  and  so  ;  and  the  novel  in 
the  feuilleton  was  in  its  ninth  chapter.  It  mystified  every- 
body, as  you  may  imagine.  But  I  guess  the  joke  would  be 
too  fine  for  the  American  mind  to  relish.  What  passes  for 
wit  among  us,  is  simply  a  colossal  absurdity ;  our  bur- 
lesques are  the  most  exaggerated  the  world  ever  saw.  "We 
must  throw  tubs  to  the  whale  and  sops  to  Cerberus.  After 
all,  I  rely  most  on  the  incidental  sources  of  profit  to  keep 
up  the  paper." 

"  As  how  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  company. 

"  Well,  if  there  is  audacity  and  arrogance  enough  among 
us,  we  '11  soon  get  a  reputation  for  critical  knowledge. 
Once  let  the  Oracle  become  the  oracle  of  opinion  in  artis- 
tic, dramatic,  and  fashionable  matters,  and  you  see  what  our 
recommendation  will  be  worth.  Why,  two  or  three  theatres 
alone  would  club  together  to  keep  up  a  paper  which  sent 
the  public  to  their  ticket-offices,  if  there  were  any  dangei 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  397 

of  it  going  down.  This  is  the  simple  philosophy  of  tn« 
matter :  we  know  what  is  good  or  bad,  —  the  public  don't 
The  public,  let  me  tell  you,  always  takes  its  opinion  on  such 
matters  at  second-hand,  and  is  often  put  to  much  inconven- 
ience by  the  absence  of  an  infallible  standard.  Now,  sup. 
pose  we  supply  this  standard  ;  we  then  hold  the  fate  of 
every  book,  picture,  play,  opera,  —  to  say  nothing  of  hotels, 
restaurants,  tailors'  and  milliners'  establishments,  and  the 
like, —  in  our  own  hands.  We  have  a  positive  power,  and  the 
exercise  of  power  is  just  what  commands  the  highest  price. 
All  we  want  is  talent  enough  to  maintain  our  position.  I 
think  we  have  that,  and  the  next  thing  is  to  work  together. 
Somebody  must  take  the  lead  and  direct  the  operations  of 
the  concern,  and  the  others  must  submit  to  his  direction, 
or  we  're  ruined  before  we  begin." 

That  somebody,  we  all  understood,  must  be  Brandagee 
himself.  The  prospect  of  entire  submission  to  his  dicta- 
tion was  not  altogether  pleasant  to  any  of  us,  but  he  pre- 
sented it  as  an  ultimatum  which  must  needs  be  accepted. 
I  was  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  notice  any  other  fact  than 
that  I  should  be  well  paid  for  a  few  sharp,  bitter,  racy  arti- 
cles, —  such  as  I  felt  myself  in  a  proper  mood  to  write. 
As  to  Brandagee's  hints  of  the  channels  through  which  the 
incidental  profits  were  to  be  derived,  they  did  not  trouble 
me  now.  If  people  paid,  they  were  supposed  to  receive  aii 
equivalent,  —  at  least,  they  would  think  so,  and  they  were 
the  parties  most  concerned. 

"  Not  a  bad  plan,"  said  Smithers,  referring  to  this  branch 
of  the  business.  "  It 's  a  sort  of  literary  filibustering  which 
will  developmental  courage  and  muscle,  —  qualities  which 
this  age  sorely  needs.  We  shall  be  like  the  wandering 
knights  of  the  Middle  Ages,  going  out  to  conquer  domains 
and  principalities,  or  like  the  Highland  chieftains,  swoop- 
ing down  on  the  plodding  Lowlanders,  and  taking  their 
surplus  cattle.  In  fact,  we  could  n't  have  a  better  mottc 
toan  Rob  Roy's." 


398  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  There  's  Florentine,  for  instance,"  said  ^randagec 
"  What  he  has  done,  we  may  do,  —  all  the  more  easily  here, 
where  there  are  no  intelligent  rivals  in  the  field.  He  's  a 
tolerably  clever  writer,  but  his  chief  power  is  in  manage' 
ment.  He  knows  everybody,  and  has  the  run  of  all  the  in- 
fluential papers,  so  that  whether  his  word  is  the  strongest 
or  not,  it  goes  further  than  any  one  else's.  I  suppose  the 
same  thing  might  be  tried  here,  if  the  chief  dailies  were 
not  such  damnable  cats  and  dogs,  but  if  we  can  lump  the  in- 
fluence now  scattered  among  them,  and  hold  it  as  our  own 
property,  don't  you  see  how  the  system  will  be  simplified  ?  " 

The  others  all  professed  they  saw  it  very  clearly.  In 
fact,  as  they  began  to  understand  "  the  system,"  they  grew 
more  willing  to  leave  to  Brandagee  the  task  of  carrying  it 
into  effect.  Mears  no  longer  hinted  at  "  black  mail,"  but 
rejoiced  in  the  opportunity  offered  to  him  of  demolishing 
Seacole,  the  allegorical  painter.  The  opinions  of  the  lat- 
ter on  the  connection  between  Faith  and  Art,  which  I  was 
wicked  enough  to  betray,  gave  Mears  the  material  for  an 
exquisitely  ironical  description  of  his  rival,  letting  his  beard 
and  nails  grow  and  rolling  himself  in  the  ash-heap,  to  pre- 
pare his  soul  for  the  conception  of  a  figure  of  St.  Jerome. 

There  was  another  feeling  which  instigated  me  to  join  in 
this  dishonorable  scheme.  My  literary  ambition,  I  have  al- 
ready said,  was  disturbed ;  its  fresh,  eager  appetite  was 
blunted,  with  increasing  knowledge  of  myself,  and  from  the 
other  fluctuations  of  my  fortunes,  —  but  I  was  also  disap- 
pointed, though  I  would  not  confess  the  fact  to  myself. 
After  the  kind,  almost  tender  reception  of  my  volume,  I 
seemed  to  make  no  progress.  I  was  welcomed  at  my  en- 
trance into  the  literary  guild,  and  then  —  ignored.  The 
curiosity  attending  the  presentation  of  a  new  individuality 
in  letters  is  soon  satisfied,  and  many  are  the  unfortunate 
authors  who  have  accepted  this  curiosity  as  fame.  But 
serious  achievement  is  necessary  to  retain  an  interest  which 
is  liable  to  be  overlaid  by  the  next  comer.  The  public 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  899 

seems  to  say,  "This  man  may  be  a  genius,  —  we  have  given 
him  welcome  and  encouragement ;  now  let  him  prove  his 
right ! " 

The  rule  is  natural,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  it  is  just 
The  firstlings  of  any  author  generally  have  an  artless,  un- 
pretending beauty  of  their  own,  which  is  none  the  less  in- 
teresting because  it  is  not  permanent  Poets  are  like 
apple-trees ;  there  is  a  season  of  bloom  and  a  season  of 
fruit,  —  but  between  the  two  we  often  find  a  long  period 
when  the  blossoms  have  fallen  and  the  fruit  is  not  yet  ripe, 
—  a  silent,  noteless,  almost  unlovely  season  of  growth  and 
transition.  The  world,  at  such  times,  passes  heedlessly  b; 
the  tree. 

Though  I  professed  to  be  indifferent  to  the  neglect  of 
my  name,  I  was  in  reality  embittered.  I  might  value  a  lit- 
erary reputation  less  than  formerly,  but  it  was  not  pleasant 
to  feel  that  I  was  losing  my  chance  for  it.  I  saw  that  other 
young  authors,  comparison  with  whom — impartially  made, 
although  I  did  it  —  was  not  unfavorable  to  myself,  kept 
their  hold  on  the  public  attention,  while  others,  in  whom  I 
found  neither  taste  nor  culture,  were  rising  into  notice.  It 
would  be  well,  I  thought,  to  let  the  public  see  how  egre- 
giously  it  was  mistaken  in  some  of  these  cases ;  I  would 
show  that  slang  and  clap-trap  very  often  make  the  staple 
of  a.  wide-spread  reputation. 

This  petulant,  captious  disposition  was  encouraged  by  the 
tone  adopted  by  my  associates  of  the  Cave  of  Trophonius. 
I  was  astonished  and  a  little  shocked  at  first,  but  I  soon  be- 
came accustomed  to  the  cool,  assured  manner  in  which  con- 
temporary fames  were  pulled  to  pieces,  and  the  judgment 
of  posterity  pronounced  in  anticipation.  This  sort  of  as- 
surance is  soon  acquired,  and  in  a  short  time  I  became  as 
great  an  expert  as  the  rest  Having  already  unlearned  so 
much  of  my  early  faith  and  reverence,  —  making  them  re- 
sponsible, indeed,  for  my  misfortunes.  —  I  rather  exagger- 
ated the  opposite  qualities,  through  fear  of  not  sufficient!} 


400  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

possessing  them.  It  was  a  pitiful  weakness,  but,  alas  !  w€ 
can  only  see  correctly  our  former,  not  our  present  selves. 

When  I  arose,  late  the  next  day,  after  a  revel  carried 
beyond  midnight,  I  was  in  no  better  mood  for  resuming  my 
regular  labors.  Duty,  in  any  shape,  had  become  "  flat, 
stale,  and  unprofitable,"  and  I  felt  strongly  inclined  to  com- 
pensate for  the  lack  of  that  luxurious  indulgence  which  my 
nature  craved,  by  lower  forms  of  license.  The  blow  of  the 
previous  evening  had  stunned  rather  than  wounded  me, 
and  I  felt  that  I  should  never  again  be  sensitive  to  the 
good  or  ill  report  of  men. 

As  for  Miss  Haworth,  two  explanations  of  her  act  pre- 
sented themselves  to  my  mind.  Either  Penrose  or  Floyd 
had  misrepresented  my  character  to  her,  or  her  position  as 
an  heiress  had  made  her  suspicious,  and  she  attributed  a  mer- 
cenary object  to  my  attentions.  The  latter  surmise  seemed 
the  more  plausible,  as  the  circle  in  which  she  moved  prob- 
ably offered  her  few  examples  of  pure,  unselfish  unions. 
The  higher  her  ideal  of  love,  the  more  cautious  she  would 
be  to  keep  from  her  its  baser  semblance,  and  my  principal 
cause  of  grievance  was,  that,  in  her  haste  and  suspicion,  she 
had  misjudged  my  heart.  I  could  not  seek  a  justification ; 
it  was  too  delicate  a  subject  to  be  discussed,  except  between 
confessed  lovers.  She  might  have  dismissed  me  in  less 
cruel  a  fashion,  I  thought,  but  it  made  little  difference  in 
the  end.  She  was  lost  to  me,  without  giving  me  a  reason 
for  ceasing  to  love  her. 

The  more  I  reflected  on  this  subject,  the  more  sure  I 
was  of  having  guessed  the  true  explanation.  She  had  re 
jected  me,  not  because  I  was  poor,  but  because  she  was 
rich,  —  I,  that  would  have  thought  it  bliss  to  work  for  her. 
to  wear  out  my  life  in  making  hers  smooth  and  pleasant  to 
her  feet !  I  said,  with  a  bitter  ejaculation,  that  gold  is  the 
god  of  the  world,  —  that  no  heart  can  beat  with  a  natural 
emotion,  no  power  of  mind  expand  with  a  free  growth,  nc 
life  rejoice  in  the  performance  of  its  appointed  work,  with 


JOHN  GODFKEY'S  FORTUNES.  401 

out  first  rendering  sacrifice  to  this  Moloch  !  And  yet,  what 
Brandagee  had  said  was  true ;  it  was  no  substance,  't  had 
not  even  the  dignity  of  a  material  force :  it  was  simply  an 
appearance,  —  nothing  when  held  and  only  turning  into 
possession  when  thrown  away. 

I  accepted,  with  stolid  indifference,  the  prospect  of  a 
•onely  life.  Never  again  would  I  allow  myself  to  love  a 
woman,  when  the  love  of  this  one  should  have  gradually 
perished  (as  I  fancied  it  would),  for  want  of  sustenance. 
No  home,  no  household  joys,  should  ever  be  mine.  The 
sainted  spirit  of  my  poor  mother  would  never  be  called 
upon  to  bless  the  grandchildren  whom  she  would  fain  have- 
lived  to  kiss :  I  should  go  back  to  her  alone,  as  on  Saturday 
nights  from  my  school  at  Honeybrook,  —  if,  indeed,  there 
was  anything  beyond  the  ashes  of  the  grave.  This  life,  that 
opened  so  sunnily,  that  promised  so  fairly,  —  what  had  it 
become  ?  and  why,  therefore,  should  our  dreams  of  rest  and 
peace  hereafter  be  more  securely  based  ?  What  sort  of  a 
preparation  was  there  in  the  endurance  of  disappointment 
and  injustice,  to  a  nature  whose  natural  food  is  joy  ? 

So  I  reasoned  —  or,  rather,  thought  I  reasoned  —  with 
myself.  There  was  no  one  to  hold  me  up  until  my  feet  were 
strong  enough  to  tread  the  safe  and  difficult  track  alone. 
Swansford  was  my  only  intimate  friend,  but,  as  I  had  not 
confided  to  him  the  growth  of  my  passion,  so  now  I  with- 
held the  confession  of  its  untimely  end.  Besides,  he  seemed 
to  be  growing  more  sad  and  morbid.  His  views  of  life,  if 
less  cynical,  were  equally  dark,  and  he  often  unconsciously 
encouraged  me  in  my  reckless  determination  to  enjoy  "  the 
luck  of  the  moment,"  whatever  it  might  be.  My  position 
in  Literature  was  similar  to  his  in  Musical  Art ;  both  had 
aspired  and  failed  to  achieve.  The  drudgery  by  which  he 
supplied  his  personal  wants  was  very  irksome,  but  he  would 
not  replace  it,  as  he  might  have  done,  by  labors  which  he 
considered  disgraceful  to  his  art.  Herein  there  was  a 
difference  between  us,  —  a  difference  which  at  first  had 
96 


402  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

made  me  respect  him,  but  which  I  now  turned  to  ridicule 
If  he  were  fool  enough  to  sacrifice  his  few  possibilities  of 
enjoyment  to  an  unprofitable  idea,  I  would  not  imitate  him 

After  a  few  days  of  idle  and  gloomy  brooding,  followed 
by  nights  at  the  Ichneumon,  I  was  driven  back  to  the 
Wonder  office,  by  the  emptiness  of  my  purse.  I  resumed 
my  duties,  performing  them  in  a  spiritless,  mechanical  fash- 
ion, with  omissions  which  drew  upon  me  Mr.  Clarendon's 
censure.  The  Oracle  was  to  appear  in  a  fortnight  or  so, 
and  I  comforted  myself  with  the  pecuniary  prospect  which 
it  held  out  to  me,  resolving,  if  it  were  successful,  to  cut 
loose  from  the  daily  treadmill  round  of  the  Wonder.  My 
short  articles  for  Jenks's  Ship  of  the  Line  became  smart 
and  savage,  as  they  reflected  the  change  of  my  temper,  and 
Jenks  began  to  send  back  the  proofs  to  me  with  a  query  on 
the  margin,  —  "  Is  n't  this  a  little  too  strong  ?  "  Following 
Brandagee's  advice,  I  had  demanded  twenty  dollars  instead 
of  the  original  five,  but,  as  I  lacked  his  brass,  compromised 
for  ten.  This,  however,  was  a  small  matter :  I  counted  on 
receiving  fifty  dollars  a  week,  at  least,  from  the  Oracle. 

The  days  went  by,  fogs  and  chill,  lowering  skies  succeed- 
ed to  the  soft  autumnal  days,  and  finally  the  opera  season 
opened  and  the  important  paper  appeared.  There  was  an 
office  in  a  third  story  in  Nassau  Street,  a  sign  in  illuminated 
Gothic  letters,  advertisements  in  the  daily  papers,  negotia- 
tions with  news-dealers,  and  all  the  other  evidences  of  an 
establishment,  intended  not  for  a  day  but  for  —  several 
years,  at  least.  We  celebrated  the  issue  of  the  first  num- 
ber by  a  supper  at  Curet's,  at  which  Mr.  Babcock  was  pres- 
ent It  was  unanimously  agreed  that  nothing  so  spicy  and 
brilliant  had  ever  been  published  in  New  York.  It  trans- 
pired, in  the  course  of  the  entertainment,  that  Babeoi  k  and 
Brandagee  had  equal  shares  in  the  proprietorship,  and  I 
was,  consequently,  a  little  disappointed  when  the  latter 
handed  me  only  fifteen  dollars  for  one  of  my  most  dashing 
and  spiteful  sketches,  three  columns  in  length. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  408 

"  We  must  have  the  power  first,"  he  said,  "  and  then  we  11 
have  the  pay.  Babcock  is  tight,  and  I  don't  want  to  make 
him  nervous  at  the  start.  It  will  take  about  three  or  four 
weeks  to  get  the  reins  in  my  hands." 

He  gave  me  a  significant  wink,  and  I  was  reassured 
There  was  the  great  fact  of  the  paper  being  actually  in 
existence  Creation,  of  course,  implied  vitality,  and  the 
mere  start,  to  my  mind,  involved  permanence  and  success. 
An  easy,  careless  life  was  before  me  for  the  immediate 
future,  at  least,  and  I  did  not  care  to  look  farther. 

I  knew,  from  Mr.  Severn's  hints,  as  well  as  from  Mr. 
Clarendon's  ominous  looks,  that  I  was  getting  into  disgrace 
with  both  of  them.  Accordingly,  I  was  not  surprised  one 
Saturday  morning,  on  being  summoned  to  the  sanctum  of 
the  latter,  —  a  call  which  I  obeyed  with  a  dogged  indiffer- 
ence to  the  result 

"I  am  sorry  to  notice  your  remissness,  Mr.  Godfrey," 
said  the  chief,  with  a  grave  air,  ••  and  I  have  only  post- 
poned speaking  of  it,  because  I  hoped  you  would  have 
seen  and  corrected  it  yourself.  The  paper  is  injured,  sir, 
by  your  neglect." 

"  I  work  as  I  am  paid,"  I  answered.  "  If  you  can  find  a 
better  man,  on  the  same  terms,  I  am  willing  to  give  him 
my  place." 

"  It  is  not  that  alone,  Mr.  Godfrey.  You  promised  to 
become  an  available  writer,  and  your  remuneration  would 
have  been  increased.  I  am  afraid  the  company  you  keep 
or  the  habits  you  have  formed  are  responsible  for  your 
failure  to  advance  as  fast  as  I  anticipated.  For  your  own 
sake,  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  can  assure  me  that  this  is  not 
the  case." 

"  I  was  not  aware,"  I  said,  "  that  I  was  to  look  to  some 
one  else  to  choose  my  company  and  prescribe  my  habits." 

"  I  suspect,"  he  continued,  without  noticing  this  defiant 
remark.  ••  that  Brandagee  has  too  much  influence  over  you. 
I  see  your  name  in  his  new  paper,  —  a  clever  rocket,  but  il 


404  JOHN  GODFBET'S  FORTUNES. 

will  soon  burn  itself  out  I  advise  you  to  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  it." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  I  prefer  giving  up  my  place  here." 

"  Very  well,  but  I  am  sorry  for  it  Mr.  Severn ! "  he 
called,  rising  and  going  to  the  door,  "  see  Phelps  this  after- 
noon, and  tell  him  to  be  on  hand  to-morrow  evening ! " 

Severn  looked  at  me,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  with  a 
malignant  expression.  I  laughed  in  his  face,  took  a  few 
private  papers  from  the  drawers  of  the  desk  I  had  used 
for  two  years  and  a  half,  thrust  them  into  my  pocket,  and 
walked  out  of  the  office. 

On  the  steps  I  met  Mr.  Lettsom,  with  his  hands  full  of 
law-reports  on  transfer-paper.  I  had  always  liked  the 
plain,  plodding,  kind-hearted  fellow,  and  would  fain  present 
him  in  these  pages  as  he  deserved,  but  that,  after  his 
first  service,  he  mingled  no  more  in  the  events  of  my  life. 

"  Good-bye,  Lettsom,"  I  said,  giving  him  my  hand ;  "  you 
brought  me  here,  and  now  I  am  taking  myself  off." 

He  looked  bewildered  and  pained  when  I  told  him  what 
had  occurred.  "  Don't  do  it,  —  don't  think  of  doing  it ! " 
he  cried. 

"  It  is  already  done." 

I  ran  down  the  steps  past  him,  and  gained  the  street. 
My  days  of  drudgery  were  over,  but  I  could  not  enjoy  the 
sense  of  freedom.  There  was  a  pang  in  breaking  off  this 
association  which  I  could  not  keep  down, — it  was  like 
pushing  away  from  the  last  little  cape  which  connected 
me  with  the  firm  land,  and  trusting  myself  to  the  unsta 
hie  sea. 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  406 


CHAPTER   XXXTT. 

CONCERNING    MARY    MALONEY*S    TROUBLE,   AND    WHAT    I 
DID    TO    REMOVE    IT. 

ONE  of  the  first  results  of  the  vagabond  life  into  which 
I  was  rapidly  drifting  was  a  dislike  for  the  steady,  ordered, 
respectable  circles  of  society.  I  looked,  with  a  contempt 
which,  I  now  suspect,  must  have  been  half  envy,  on  the 
smooth,  prosperous  regularity  of  their  ways,  and  only  felt 
myself  at  ease  among  my  clever,  lawless  associates,  or 
among  those  who  were  poor  and  rude  enough  to  set  aside 
conventionalities.  Thus  it  happened  that  I  visited  Mary 
Maloney  much  more  frequently  at  this  time  than  formerly. 
Jane  Berry  had  been  promoted,  and  was  allowed  to  work 
at  home,  and  I  found  a  great  pleasure  in  the  society  of  two 
women  who  knew  nothing  oi  me  —  and  would  probably 
believe  nothing  —  but  good.  They  were  both  ignorant, 
and  they  looked  up  to  me  for  counsel,  and  listened  to  my 
words  with  a  manifest  reverence,  which,  to  a  man  of  my 
years,  was  a  most  delicate  flattery. 

Sometimes  I  went  in  the  early  evening,  with  a  few 
ounces  of  tea,  or  some  other  slight  gift,  as  my  excuse,  but 
oftenest  in  the  afternoons,  when  Hugh  was  sure  to  be 
absent.  The  silence  of  this  growing  bully,  and  the  glances 
which  he  shot  at  me  out  of  his  bold  eyes,  were  not  encour- 
agements to  conversation  in  his  presence.  I  fancied  him 
to  be  one  of  those  natures,  at  once  coarse  and  proud,  who 
bear  an  obligation  almost  as  restively  as  if  it  were  an 
injury. 

After  a  while,  however,  I  detected  a  change  in  Mar) 


406  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

Maloney's  manner  towards  me.  She  no  longer  met  roe 
with  the  same  hale,  free  welcome  when  I  came:  her 
tongue,  wont  to  run  only  too  fast,  halted  and  stumbled  ; 
I  could  see,  although  she  strove  to  hide  it,  that  my  pres- 
ence was  a  constraint,  yet  could  not  guess  why  it  should 
be  so.  This  was  annoying,  not  only  on  account  of  the  old 
familiarity  between  us,  but  because  I  had  a  hearty  liking 
for  Jane  Berry,  who  was  almost  the  only  person  living  in 
whose  fate  I  was  earnestly  interested. 

The  latter,  since  the  night  when  she  had  confided  to  me 
her  history,  no  longer  met  me  with  a  shy,  blushing  face, 
but  showed  a  frank,  fearless  pleasure  in  my  society.  My 
visits  seemed  to  cheer  and  encourage  her,  and  \vith  the 
growing  sense  of  security,  her  hopeful  spirit  returned. 
She  would  soon  be  ready,  I  believed,  to  think  of  going 
back  to  the  little  New  Jersey  village. 

It  was  near  Christmas,  —  I  remember  trying  to  fix  upon 
some  appropriate,  inexpensive  gift  for  the  only  two  female 
friends  left  to  me,  as  I  walked  by  the  gayly  decorated 
shops  in  Broadway,  —  when  I  turned,  one  afternoon,  into 
Gooseberry  Alley.  I  met  Mary  Maloney  at  the  door  of 
the  tenement-house,  with  her  bonnet  on,  and  a  basket  of 
laundered  linen  in  her  hand. 

"  What !  —  going  away,  Mary  ?  "  I  said.  "  I  was  about  to 
pay  you  a  visit." 

She  put  down  her  basket  on  the  floor  of  the  passage, 
and  looked  at  me  with  a  troubled  expression.  "  Miss 
Jenny  's  at  home,"  she  said  at  last,  with  an  air  of  hesitation, 
"  but  I  s'pose,  sir,  you  would  n't  want  to  see  her,  ar  d  me 
not  there?" 

"  Why  not  ?  "  1  answered,  laughing.  "  She 's  not  afraid 
of  me,  nor  you  either,  Mary.  Have  I  grown  to  be  danger- 
ous all  at  once  ?  " 

"  Sure,  and  it  is  n't  that,  Mr.  Godfrey.  Would  you  mind 
comin*  a  bit  down  the  strate  wi'  me  ?  I  'd  like  to  spake 
with  you  for  a  minute,  jist" 


JOHff  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  407 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  I  said,  turning  and  walking  in  advance 
between  the  gutter  and  the  wall,  until  I  reached  the  broader 
sidewalk  of  Sullivan  Street  Here  she  joined  me  with  her 
basket,  and,  when  we  were  beyond  hearing  of  any  strag 
glers  in  the  Alley,  halted. 

"  I  'm  a  widow,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  she  said,  "  and,  askin*  y'l 
pardon,  sir,  nigh  old  enough  to  be  the  mother  o'  you. 
There  's  been  somethin'  I  've  been  a-wantin'  to  say  to  you, 
but  it  is  n't  a  thing  that 's  aisy  said ;  —  howsiver,  I  've  spoke 
to  the  praste  about  it,  and  he  says  as  you  're  a  proper  young 
man  and  my  intentions  is  right,  it 's  no  sin,  naither  shame, 
but  rather  a  bounden  juty,  sir,  —  and  I  hope  you  '11  take 
it  so.  It  may  n't  seem  right  for  me  to  go  fornenst  you, 
bein'  so  beholden  to  your  goodness,  and  I  wud  n't  if  there 
was  any  way  to  help  it." 

Here  she  paused,  as  if  expecting  a  reply.  I  had  no  idea, 
however,  of  the  communication  so  solemnly  preluded,  and 
would  have  laughed  outright  but  for  the  grave  expression 
of  her  face.  "  I  understand  that,  Mary,"  I  said  ;  "  now  tell 
me  the  rest" 

"  It 's  about  Miss  Jenny,  sir.  The  neighbors  knowed  of 
her  comin',  and  who  brought  her,  all  along  o'  Teeny's  bein' 
roused  up  in  the  night,  and  their  tongues  was  n't  idle,  you 
may  think.  Girls  wantin'  sewin'  a'n't  to  be  picked  up  in 
the  strates  o'  midnights,  and  though  I  knowed  it  was  all 
right  because  you  said  so,  it  was  n't  quare,  considering  that 
folks  should  talk.  You  may  think  it  'd  make  little  differ- 
ence, anyhow,  among  us  poor  bodies ;  but  we  have  our  car- 
rackters  as  well  as  our  betters.  "Well  —  when  they  saw 
how  handy  and  stiddy  she  was  at  her  needle,  they  seemed 
to  give  me  the  rights  of  it ;  but  now  it 's  all  t'  other  way, 
along  o'  you  comin'  so  fraiquently,  sir,  —  and  I  'm  sure 
you  're  welcome,  ivery  time,  —  and  as  for  me,  I  'm  an  honest 
woman,  and  nobody  can  say  a  word  fornenst  me,  Damn 
they  lie, —  but  things  is  said,  sir,  as  is  n't  agrayable  to  hear 
and  hardly  dacent  to  repate.  Maybe  you  can  guess  'em." 


408  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

"  What ! "  I  exclaimed,  "  do  they  charge  Jane  Berrj 
with  being  a  mistress  of  mine  ?  I  suppose  that  is  what 
you  mean.  You  know,  Mary,  that  it  is  a  lie." 

"I  know,  sir,"  she  answered,  {>but  my  word  goes  for 
nothin'  aginst  appairances.  Feenys  takes  my  part,  and 
says  if  it 's  so,  it 's  unbeknowns  to  me,  —  which  would  be 
true  if  the  t'  other  thing  was,  —  but,  in  course,  that  don't 
stop  their  tongues.  You  see,  sir,  I  can't  bring  it  over  my 
heart  to  tell  her,  —  she  's  a  dacent,  kindly,  lovin'  little  body 
as  iver  was  ;  but  she  '11  find  it  out  to  her  sorra." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  rather  than  that  you  and  she  should 
be  annoyed  and  slandered  in  this  way,  I  must  give  up  my 
visits.  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do  to  satisfy  those 
fools?" 

"  There  was  somethin'  else  I  had  on  my  mind,  and  there  's 
no  use  o'  makin'  two  bites  at  a  cherry,"  said  she,  with  a 
curious  misapplication  of  the  proverb.  But  her  face  grew 
red  and  her  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper.  I  began  to  fear 
—  absurd  as  the  thought  was  —  that  she  also  had  been 
implicated  in  those  amiable  reports. 

"  It 's  harder  to  tell,"  she  said  at  last,  wiping  her  face 
with  her  apron,  "  but  maybe  you  11  know  what  I  mane, 
without  my  sayin'  too  much.  I  'm  thinkin'  o'  Hugh.  I  've 
seen,  plainly  enough,  that  somethin 's  the  matter  wi'  the 
lad,  iver  since  she  come  into  the  house.  If  he 's  an  honest 
likin'  to  her,  it  is  n't  to  be  thought  that  she  '11  take  up  wi' 
the  likes  o'  him,  —  though  there  a'n't  a  stouter  and  whole- 

7  O 

somer  boy  o'  his  age  in  New  York,  —  and  if  he  has  nV,  it 's 
worse.  He  can't  keep  the  eyes  of  him  off  her,  and  the 
temper  of  him 's  jist  mint  intirely.  Maybe  I  'm  doin' 
wrong,  bearin'  witness  aginst  my  own  boy,  but  if  you  could 
hear  him  swear  sometimes,  sir,  and  grind  his  teeth  in  his 
slape,  as  I  do,  layin'  awake  and  thinkin'  what's  to  be 
done ! " 

The  widow's  words  threw  a  quick,  strong  light  on  Hugh's 
behavior.  She  was  keener-sighted  than  I,  and  she  had 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  409 

placed  the  whole  situation  clearly  before  me.  Evidently, 
she  relied  upon  me  to  relieve  both  her  and  Jane  Berry 
from  its  certain  distress,  its  possible  danger,  —  and  she  must 
not  be  disappointed. 

"  Mary,"  I  said,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  I  am  so 
surprised  by  all  this  that  I  must  take  time  to  think  it  over. 
You  were  quite  right  to  tell  me,  and  I  give  you  my  word 
that  I  will  not  stop  until  the  matter  is  set  right." 

"  Thank  ye,  sir ! "  she  gratefully  exclaimed.  "  I  knowed 
you  had  the  knowlidge  and  the  willin'  heart" 

Then  she  went  on  down  Sullivan  Street,  while  I  turned 
in  the  opposite  direction,  intending  to  go  into  Washington 
Square  and  turn  the  subject  over  in  my  mind,  as  I  had 
promised.  I  was  profoundly  vexed,  —  not  that  /cared  for 
the  suspicions  of  that  Irish  pack,  but  on  Jane  Berry's  ac- 
count Of  course  she  must  leave  Gooseberry  Alley  without 
delay,  and  my  principal  task  was  to  find  a  pretext  for 
removing  her. 

What  was  the  thought  that  suddenly  caused  me  to  stop, 
and  then  hurried  me  back  the  way  I  came  ?  As  this  is 
to  be  an  impartial  history,  it  must  be  told ;  but  I  can  best 
tell  it  by  relating  what  followed.  Every  detail  of  the  scene 
remains  fresh  and  vivid  in  my  memory. 

I  reentered  Gooseberry  Alley,  and  in  another  moment 
knocked  at  the  door  of  Mary  Maloney's  lodgings.  It  was 
opened,  as  I  expected,  by  Jane  Berry,  and  I  carefully 
closed  it  behind  me  as  I  entered,  lest  any  of  the  Feenys 
might  be  eavesdropping.  Jane  had  taken  her  work  to  the 
window  of  the  little  kitchen,  where  there  was  more  light 
of  an  afternoon,  and  briskly  resumed  her  needle  after  ad- 
mitting me.  I  noticed  how  fine  and  glossy  her  hair  was 
where  the  light  touched  it 

"  Mary  's  not  at  home,"  she  said,  as  I  took  a  seat 

"  I  know  it,  Jane,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  I  have  come 
to  see  you.  I  met  her  in  the  street." 

I  was  embarrassed  how  to  proceed  further.  She  looked 
op  with  a  wondering  expectancy,  and  forced  me  to  go  on. 


410  JOHN    GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

u  I  have  heard  something,"  I  said,  u  which  I  am  afraid 
vrill  be  very  disagreeable  news  to  you.  I  would  not  con\e 
to  trouble  you  with  it,  if  I  did  not  think  it  was  necessary.'* 

She  became  so  pale  and  frightened  all  at  once  that  1 
saw  what  she  suspected,  and  hastened  to  allay  her  fears. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of,  Jane  ;  but  it  is  not 
that.  The  woman  has  not  found  you  out,  —  nay.  I  am  sure 
she  has  ceased  looking  for  you  by  this  time.  It  is  some- 
thing which  you  could  not  have  imagined,  —  something 
which  affects  myself  as  well  as  you.  My  visits,  it  seems, 
have  been  noticed  by  the  poor,  ignorant  fools  who  live  in 
these  houses,  and  they  can  only  explain  them  in  their  own 
coarse  way.  I  see  you  don't  understand  me  yet ;  I  must 
say,  then,  that  neither  of  us  is  considered  as  virtuous  as 
the  people  think  we  should  be." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Godfrey  !  "  she  cried,  "  and  I  've  brought  this 
on  you  !  I  'm  sure  it  must  have  been  Mary  who  told  you  ; 
she  has  n't  seemed  to  me  like  the  same  woman  for  a  week 
past,  but  I  thought  she  might  have  troubles  of  her  own. 
I  felt  that  something  was  n't  right,  but  I  never  thought  of 
that !  She  don't  believe  it,  surely  ?  " 

u  She  does  not,"  I  said ;  "  but  this  wicked  gossip  spares 
her  none  the  more  for  that  She  is  a  good,  kind-hearted 
woman,  and  must  not  be  allowed  to  suffer  on  account  of  it" 

"  No,  no,  —  I  'd  rather  tell  her  everything ;  but,  then, 
it  would  n't  help,  after  all.  I  ought  n't  to  stay  here  since 
the  story  is  believed  ;  what  can  I  do,  if  I  leave  ?  " 

"  Make  the  story  true,"  I  said. 

Yes,  those  were  my  very  words.  What  wonder  if  she 
did  not  understand  them,  —  if  her  look  of  innocent  bewil- 
derment caused  my  wanton  eyes  to  drop,  and  a  sting  of  re- 
morseful shame  to  strike  through  my  heart  ?  They  were 
said,  however,  and  could  not  be  recalled,  and  I  saw  that  her 
mind,  in  another  moment,  would  comprehend  their  mean- 
ing. So  I  crushed  down  the  rising  protest  of  my  bettei 
iel£  and  repeated,  — 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  411 

"  Make  the  story  true.  If  we  try  to  be  good,  we  get  nc 
credit  for  it,  and  it  is  no  worse  to  be  what  they  say  we  aro 
than  to  have  them  believe  so." 

She  still  looked  at  me  incredulously,  though  the  color 
was  deepening  on  her  cheek  and  creeping  down  over  her 
slender  throat.  "  Mr.  Godfrey,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a  low, 
fluttering  voice,  "  you  are  not  saying  what  you  really  think  ?" 

"•  It  is  true  ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  Look  at  the  thing  yourself; 
your  life  is  ruined,  and  so  is  mine.  Everything  goes  wrong 
with  me,  —  doing  right  has  brought  me  nothing  but  mis- 
fortune. You  are  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed,  yet  the 
villain  who  ruined  you  is  a  respectable  member  of  society, 
no  doubt,  while  you  are  condemned  as  long  as  you  live. 
You  see  how  unjust  is  the  judgment  of  the  world,  —  at  any 
rate,  /  do,  and  I  have  ceased  to  care  for  it  If  we  unite 
our  lives,  we  may  be  some  comfort  to  each  other.  I  can 
make  enough  money  to  keep  you  from  want,  and  that  is 
probably  all  you  would  ever  have,  if  your  friends  were  to 
take  you  back  again.  You  may  be  sure,  also,  that  I  would 
be  both  kind  and  faithful." 

The  poor  girl  changed  color  repeatedly  while  I  was  uv 
tering  these  cruel  words.  I  thought  she  was  deliberating 
whether  to  accept  my  proposition  ;  but  her  heart,  shallow 
as  were  its  emotions,  was  still  too  deep  for  my  vision  to 
fathom.  She  was  too  agitated  to  speak  ;  her  lips  moved 
to  inaudible  words,  and  her  eyes  looked  an  unintelligible 
question.  I  stooped  down  and  took  her  hand ;  it  was 
trembling,  and  she  drew  it  gently  out  of  my  grasp.  But  the 
words  were  again  repeated,  and  this  time  I  heard  them,  — 

"  Do  you  love  me  ?  " 

I  felt,  by  a  sudden  flash  of  instinct,  all  that  the  question 
implied.  In  that  moment,  I  became  the  arbiter  of  her  fate. 
There  was  an  instant's  powerful  struggle  between  the  Truth 
and  the  Lie  ;  but,  thank  God,  I  was  not  yet  wholly  debased. 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I  will  not  deceive  you,  Jane.  I  do  not 
love  you.  Love  !  I  have  had  enough  of  loving.  Yes,  — 


112  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

you  may  know  the  whole  truth  ;  I  love  as  you  do,  —  on* 
who  is  lost  to  me,  and  through  no  fault  of  mine.  What  is 
left  to  me,  —  to  either  of  us  ?  " 

She  had  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  was  weep- 
ing passionately.  I  knew  for  whom  her  tears  were  shed, 
and  how  unavailingly,  —  but  her  grief  was  less  than  mine, 
by  as  much  as  the  difference  in  the  depth  of  our  natures. 
I  felt  no  movement  of  pity  for  her,  because  I  had  ceased  to 
feel  it  for  myself. 

I  waited  until  her  sobs  ceased,  and  then  took  her  hand 
again.  "  Come,  Jane,"  I  said,  "  it  does  no  good  to  re- 
member him.  I,  too,  will  try  to  forget  her  who  has  cast 
me  off,  and  perhaps  you  and  I  may  come  to  love  each  other 
after  a  while.  But  we  need  n't  make  any  pretence  in  the 
beginning,  because  we  both  know  bettef." 

Again  she  released  her  hand,  but  this  time  with  a  quick, 
impulsive  motion.  She  rose  from  her  seat  and  retreated 
a  step  from  me.  Her  face  was  very  pale,  and  her  eyes 
wide  with  a  new  and  unexpected  expression.  "  Don't  say 
anything  more,  Mr.  Godfrey  ! "  she  cried  ;  "  I  am  afraid  of 
you !  Oh,  is  all  the  good  you  've  done  for  me  to  go  for  noth- 
ing ?  I  '11  never  believe  this  was  in  your  mind  when  you 
picked  me  up,  and  set  me  on  my  feet,  and  put  me  in  the 
right  way  again.  I  've  been  praying  God  every  night  to 
bless  you  ;  you  seemed  to  me  almost  like  one  of  His  an- 
gels, and  it 's  dreadful  to  see  the  Bad  Spirit  looking  out  of 
your  eyes,  and  putting  words  into  your  mouth.  I  don't 
complain  because  what  you  've  said  to  me  hurts  me  ;  I  've 
no  right  to  expect  anything  else.  —  but  it 's  because  you  've 
said  it  Oh,  Mr.  Godfrey,  don't  say  that  it  's  my  fault,  — • 
that  helping  me  has  put  such  things  into  your  head  ;  please, 
don't  say  that !  It  would  be  the  worst  punishment  of  all !" 

The  intensity  of  her  face,  the  piercing  earnestness  of  her 
voice  and  words,  struck  me  dumb.  It  came  to  my  ear  like 
the  cry  of  a  soul  in  agony,  and  I  saw  that  I  had  here  in- 
deed blasphemously  tampered  with  a  soul's  immortal  inter- 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  413 

ests.  The  selfish  logic  by  which  I  had  endeavored  to  per- 
suade her  fell  into  dust  before  the  simple  protest  of  hei 
heart.  I  was  too  unskilled  in  the  tactics  of  vice  to  renew 
the  attack,  even  had  I  been  unprincipled  enough  to  desire 
it  But,  in  truth,  I  stood  humiliated  before  her,  sensible 
only  of  the  fact  that  she  would  never  more  respect  me.  I 
had  been  an  Angel  to  her  artless  fancy ;  henceforth  I  should 
be  a  Devil. 

She  waited  for  an  answer  to  her  last  question,  and  what 
little  comfort  there  might  be  in  my  reply  she  should  have. 

"  Jane,"  I  said,  "  you  are  not  accountable  for  what  I  have 
been  saying.  You  are  far  better  than  I  am.  I  was  honest 
in  trying  to  help  you,  —  this  was  not  in  my  mind,  —  but  I 
won't  answer  for  myself  any  longer.  You  are  right  to  be 
afraid  of  me  :  I  will  go  !  " 

I  turned  as  I  said  these  words,  and  left  the  room.  As 
I  flung  the  door  behind  me,  I  saw  her  standing  by  the  win- 
dow,  with  her  eyes  following  me.  I  fancied,  also,  that  I 
heard  her  once  more  utter  my  name,  but,  even  if  it  were 
true,  I  was  in  no  mood  to  prolong  the  interview.  As  I 
opened  the  outer  door  hastily,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mrs. 
Feeny  dodging  into  the  room  on  the  other  side  of  the  pas- 
sage. 

On  my  way  down  Sullivan  Street  I  remembered  that  I 
had  done  nothing  towards  relieving  Mary  Maloney  of  her 
trouble.  But  I  soon  dismissed  the  subject  from  my  mind, 
resolved  to  let  the  two  women  settle  it  between  themselves. 
Once  in  my  room,  I  wrote  a  venomous  sketch  for  the  next 
number  of  the  Oracle,  and  passed  my  evening,  as  usual,  at 
the  Ichneumon. 

Two  days  afterwards  the  bells  reminded  me  that  it  was 
Christmas  morn ;  I  had  forgotten  the  day.  I  threw  open 
my  window,  and  listened  to  the  musical  clang,  which  came 
to  my  ears,  crisp  and  sweet,  through  the  frosty  air.  Hav- 
ing now  more  time  at  my  disposal  I  Kad  resumed  my  Ger- 
man studies,  and  the  lines  of  Faust  returned  to  my  mind, — 


414          JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

u  Then  seemed  the  breath  of  Heavenly  Love  to  play 
Upon  my  brow,  in  Sabbath  silence  holy ; 
And  filled  with  mystic  presage,  tolling  slowly, 
The  church-bell  boomed,  and  joy  it  was  to  pray." 

Alas  !  I  had  unlearned  the  habit,  and  the  beautiful  day  of 
Christian  jubilee  awoke  but  a  dull  reverberation  in  my 
heart.  A  Merry  Christmas  !  Who  would  speak  the  words 
to  me,  not  as  a  hollow  form,  but  as  a  heart-felt  wish  ? 

There  was  a  knock  at  my  door.  Mary  Maloney  entered 
and  gave  me  the  festive  salutation.  It  came  as  a  response 
to  my  thought,  and  touched  my  heart  with  a  grateful  soft- 
ness. She  carried  a  thin  package  in  her  hand,  and  said, 
as  she  laid  it  on  the  table,  — 

"  I  've  brought  a  Christmas  for  you  to-day,  Mr.  Godfrey. 
It 's  Miss  Jenny's  doin',  and  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  now, 
since  she's  left,  that  she  sat  up  the  biggest  part  of  a  night  to 
get  it  ready.  You  see,  sir,  when  I  brought  home  your  wes- 
kit,  o'  Wednesday,  to  fix  the  button,  I  said  it  would  n't  bear 
much  more  wearin',  and  you  ought,  by  rights,  to  git  y'rself 
a  new  one.  With  that  she  up  and  said  she  'd  like  to  make 
one  herself,  as  a  Christmas  for  you,  and  might  she  kape  it 
and  take  the  pattern.  So  she  bought  the  stuff  and  hoped 
you  'd  like  it,  and  indade  it 's  a  nate  piece  o'  wurrk,  as  you 
may  see." 

I  cast  scarcely  a  glance  at  the  waistcoat,  so  eager  was  I 
to  hear  what  had  become  of  Jane  Berry.  But  Mary  either 
could  not,  or  would  not,  give  me  any  satisfactory  news. 

"  When  I  come  home,  t'  other  evenin',"  she  said,  "  I  saw 
she  'd  been  cryin',  and  I  mistrusted  you  'd  been  havin'  a 
talk  with  her,  so  I  would  n't  add  to  her  trouble  by  any 
words  o'  my  own.  And  that  was  the  night  she  finished  the 
weskit.  So  next  mornin'  she  went  out  airly  and  I  did  n't 
see  her  till  nigh  noon,  when  she  had  her  things  ready  to 
laive.  Says  she,  '  Mary,  I  'm  goin'  away,  but  I  sha'  n't  for- 
git  you ; '  and  says  I,  '  Naither  will  I  forgit  you,  and  I  wish 
you  hearty  good  luck,  and  where  are  you  goin',  for  I  expect 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  415 

to  see  you  between  whiles ; '  -=—  but  says  she. '  It 's  best  you 
don't  come,'  and  '  I  '11  always  know  where  to  find  you,'  and 
so  she  went  off.  Sure  my  heart  ached  wi'  the  thought  of 
her,  and  it 's  ached  since,  along  o'  Hugh.  He  won't  be- 
lieve I  dunno  where  she  is,  and  glowers  at  me  like  a  wild 
baste,  and  st'iys  away  o'  nights,  till  I  'm  fearful,  when 
there  's  the  laist  noise  in  the  house,  it  may  be  his  blessed 
body  brought  home  on  a  board." 

I  noticed,  now,  the  haggard,  anxious  expression  of  the 
Irishwoman's  face,  and  tried  to  encourage  her  with  the  as- 
surance that  Hugh  was  but  a  boy,  and  would  soon  forget 
his  disappointment.  But  she  clasped  her  hands  and 
sighed,  and  there  was  a  memory  of  Hugh's  father  in  her 
fixed  eyes. 

After  she  had  left  the  room,  I  picked  up  and  inspected 
the  present  It  was  of  plain,  sober-colored  material,  but 
very  neatly  and  carefully  made.  I  turned  out  the  pockets 
and  examined  the  lining,  hoping  to  find  some  note  or  to- 
ken conveying  a  parting  message.  There  was  nothing, 
and  after  a  few  inquiries,  made  to  satisfy  my  remaining 
fragment  of  a  conscience,  I  gave  up  the  search  for  Jane 
Berry. 

During  the  holiday  week  another  incident  occurred, — 
trifling  in  itself,  but  it  excited  a  temporary  interest  in  my 
mind.  I  had  possession  of  one  of  the  Oracle's  passes  to 
the  Opera,  and,  at  the  close  of  the  performance  was  slowly 
surging  out  through  the  lobby,  with  the  departing  crowd, 
when  a  familiar  female  voice,  just  in  front  of  me,  said,  — 

"  But  you  men  are  such  flatterers,  —  all  of  you." 

"Present  company  excepted,"  replied  another  familiar 
voice,  with  a  coarse,  silly  laugh. 

If  the  thick  coils  of  black  hair,  dropping  pomegranate 
blossoms,  had  not  revealed  to  me  the  lady,  the  flirt  of  a 
scarlet  fan  over  her  olive  shoulder  made  the  recognition 
sure.  It  was  Miss  Levi,  of  course,  leaning  on  the  arm  of 
—  could  I  believe  my  eyes? —  Mr.  Tracy  Floyd.  I  kep< 


416  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

as  close  to  the  pair  as  possible,  without  running  the  risk 
of  being  recognized,  and  cocked  my  ear  to  entrap  more  of 
their  conversation.  Eavesdropping  in  a  crowd,  I  believe, 
is  not  dishonorable. 

u  It  is  a  pleasure  to  hear  music,  under  the  guidance  of 
such  an  exquisite  taste  as  yours"  remarked  Miss  Levi. 

"Ah,  you  think  I  know  something  about  it  then  ?  "  said 
her  companion.  "  Deuced  glad  to  hear  it ;  Bell  always 
used  to  snub  me,  —  but  a  fellow  may  know  as  much  as  other 
people,  without  trying  to  show  off  all  the  time." 

"  Certainly  ;  that  is  my  idea  of  what  a  gentleman  should 
be,  —  but  how  few  such  we  meet ! "  Her  voice  was  low 
and  insinuating,  and  the  pomegranate  blossoms  bent 
towards  his  shoulder.  I  knew,  as  well  as  if  I  had  stood 
before  them,  that  all  the  power  of  her  eyes  was  thrown 
upon  his  face.  I  could  see  the  bit  of  his  neck  behind  his 
whisker  grow  red  with  pleasure,  as  he  straightened  his 
head  and  stroked  his  moustache. 

There  was  a  puff  of  cold  air  from  the  outer  door,  and 
she  drew  up  the  hood  of  her  cloak.  Somehow,  it  would 
catch  in  the  wilderness  of  hair  and  flowers,  and  his  assist, 
ance  was  required  to  adjust  it  to  her  head.  Then  they 
scuttled  into  the  street,  in  a  high  state  of  mutual  good- 
humor. 

N  it  possible,  I  asked  myself,  that  he  has  been  caught  in 
the  *rap  he  laid  for  me  ?  If  so,  I  can  afford  to  forgive  him 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  417 


CHAPTER   XXXTTT. 

WHICH    SHOWS    WHAT    I    BECAME 

THE  reader  may  suppose  that  the  part  of  my  history 
most  difficult  to  relate  has  already  been  written.  If  so, 
he  is  mistaken.  It  is  easier  to  speak  of  an  evil  impulse 
which  has  been  frustrated,  than  of  a  more  venial  fault  which 
has  actually  been  committed.  Nay,  I  will  go  further,  and 
state  a  fact  which  seems  both  inconsistent  and  unjust,  — 
that  the  degree  of  our  repentance  for  our  sins  is  not  meas- 
ured by  the  extent  to  which  they  violate  our  own  accepted 
standard  of  morals.  An  act  which  springs  from  some  sug- 
gestion of  cowardly  meanness  by  which  we  may  be  sur- 
prised, often  troubles  us  far  more  than  an  act  due  to  bold, 
rampant,  selfish  appetite,  though  the  consequences  of  the 
latter  may  be,  beyond  comparison,  more  unfortunate  to 
ourselves  and  to  others.  There  is  in  most  men  an  abstract 
idea  of  manhood,  —  whether  natural  or  conventional  I  will 
not  here  discuss,  —  which  has  its  separate  conscience, 
generally,  but  not  always,  working  side  by  side  with  the 
religious  principle.  There  are  fortunate  beings  in  whom 
the  circumstances  of  life  have  never  separated  these  dis- 
tinct elements,  —  and  such,  alas  !  will  not  understand  me. 
Perhaps  the  record  I  now  set  down  against  myself  will 
make  the  matter  more  intelligible. 

My  circle  of  associates  having  become  gradually  nar- 
rowed down  to  Brandagee  and  his  Oracular  corps,  with 
a  few  other  habitues  of  the  Ichneumon,  who  were  not 
connected  with  the  paper,  —  Swansford  being  almost  the 
only  old  friend  whom  I  cared  to  meet,  —  my  life  naturally 
27 


418  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

toOK  on,  more  ana  more,  a  reckless,  vagabondizing  char- 
acter. The  want  of  a  basis  of  Faith,  Patience,  and  Reso- 
lution, expressed  itself  in  the  commonest  details  of  daily 
life.  Mrs.  De  Peyster's  respectable  dinner  company  bored 
me  to  death  ;  even  the  dishes  wore  the  commonplace 
aspect  of  wholesome,  insipid  propriety.  My  stomach,  like 
my  brain,  craved  variety,  piquancy,  and  excitement ;  health 
was  a  secondary  consideration.  I  ceased  to  make  any 
computation  of  my  earnings  and  to  guage  my  expenses 
accordingly.  One  day  I  would  invite  Brandagee  or  Smith- 
ers  to  some  restaurant  with  a  foreign  carte  and  a  list  of 
cheap  wines,  and  the  next,  perhaps,  content  myself  with  a 
lunch  of  black  bread,  Limburg  cheese,  and  lager-beer.  So 
long  as  I  had  company,  the  hours  passed  away  rapidly, 
and  with  a  careless,  rollicking  sense  of  enjoyment,  but  I 
shrank  from  being  left  face  to  face  with  the  emptiness 
of  my  life. 

With  regard  to  my  support,  I  was  sufficiently  assured. 
The  ten  weekly  dollars  of  G.  Jenks  were  punctually  forth- 
coming, since  the  taste  for  scrappy,  make-believe  philoso- 
phy had  not  yet  abated,  and  I  also  took  to  writing  bilious, 
semi-mysterious  stories,  after  the  manner  of  Hoffman. 
The  prospects  of  the  Oracle  were  variable  for  the  first 
few  weeks:  it  attracted  enough  attention  to  keep  up  our 
hopes,  and  paid  poorly  enough  to  disappoint  them.  But, 
in  one  way  or  another,  my  income  averaged  twenty-five 
dollars  a  week,  all  of  which  went  as  fast  as  it  came. 
When  there  was  a  temporary  falling-off,  Miles  was  ready 
enough  to  give  me  credit,  —  an  accommodation  which  I 
found  so  convenient  and  used  so  freqxiently  that  there 
soon  came  a  day  when  the  very  slender  hoard  I  had 
spared  was  exhausted,  and  my  bill  for  a  fortnight's  board 
in  Bleecker  Street  still  unpaid. 

The  evening  on  which  I  made  this  discovery,  there  hap- 
pened to  be  an  unusually  large  and  jovial  party  in  the 
Cave.  I  was  in  little  humor  for  festivity  :  the  recollection 


JOHX  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  419 

of  Mrs.  De  Peyster's  keen,  suspicious  glance,  as  she  passed 
me  on  the  stairs  that  afternoon,  made  me  feel  very  uncom- 
fortable, and  I  resolved  to  deny  myself  some  indulgences 
which  had  grown  to  be  almost  indispensable,  rather  than 
encounter  it  a  second  time.  Hitherto  I  had  played  some- 
thing of  an  ostentatious  part  among  my  comrades,  —  had 
been  congratulated  on  the  evidences  of  my  success, —  and 
it  was  hard  to  confess  that  the  part  was  now  played  out, 
and  the  sham  velvet  and  tinsel  spangles  laid  aside.  I  slunk 
into  a  corner  and  tried  to  appear  occupied  with  a  news- 
paper ;  but  it  was  not  long  before  Brandagee  scented  my 
depression. 

"  Hallo,  Godfrey,  what 's  the  matter  ? "  he  cried,  slap- 
ping me  on  the  shoulder.  "Ha!  do  I  read  the  signs 
aright?  Thou  hast  met  the  Dweller  of  the  Threshold  !" 

I  did  not  care  to  bandy  burlesque  expressions  with  him, 
and  was  too  listless  to  defend  myself  from  his  probing  eye ; 
so  I  took  him  aside  and  told  him  my  difficulty. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  he,  "  you  are  too  innocent  for  this  world. 
If  I  had  the  money  I  'd  lend  it  to  you  at  once,  since  you  're 
so  eager  to  feed  the  vultures  ;  but  I  had  the  devil's  own 
luck  at  vingt-et-un  last  night  Go  to  Jenks  or  Babcock, 
and  get  an  advance  ;  it 's  what  every  fellow  is  forced  to  do 
sometimes.  Meanwhile,  Miles  will  chalk  your  back  for  all 
you  want  to-night  Come,  don't  spoil  the  fun :  that  idea 
we  developed  last  week  was  worth  a  hundred  dollars,  Bab- 
cock  says.  Two  or  three  more  such,  and  the  Oracle  is  a 
made  paper." 

The  "  idea "  of  which  he  spoke  was  neither  more  nor 
less  than  a  minute  description  of  the  costumes  of  various 
ladies  at  a  grand  private  ball  in  Fifth  Avenue,  to  which 
Brandagee  had  procured  an  invitation.  It  was  written 
with  a  great  apparent  familiarity  with  the  subject,  and  a 
reference  to  the  dresses  of  the  ladies  of  the  Parisian 
noblesse,  in  a  style  breathing  at  once  flattery  and  admo- 
nition. u  You  have  done  very  well,  this  tune,"  it  seemed 


420  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

to  say,  "  but  take  care,  —  I  know  all  about  it,  and  am  on 
the  look  out  for  mistakes."  Its  publication  was  followed 
by  greatly  increased  orders  for  The  Oracle  from  up-town 
bookstores  and  newspaper  stands.  The  musical  criticism^ 
though  much  more  cleverly  done,  failed  to  make  anything 
like  an  equal  sensation. 

I  succumbed  to  Brandagee's  mingled  raillery  and  per- 
suasion, and  entered  my  name  on  Miles's  books.  The 
circle  joyfully  opened  to  receive  me,  and  in  five  minutes 

—  so  powerful    is  the  magnetism  of  such  company  —  no 
one  was  gayer  and  more  reckless  than  I.      We  fell  into 
discussing  new  devices  for  attracting  attention  to  the  paper, 

—  some  serious,  some  ironical,  but  all  more  or  less  shrewd 
and  humorous.     In  fact,  I  have  often  thought,  since  those 
days,  that  a  keen,  wide-awake,  practical  man  might  have 
found,  almost  any  evening,  the  germ  of  a  successful  enter- 
prise   among   the    random    suggestions    and   speculations 
which  we  threw  together. 

"  One  thing  is  wanting  yet,"  said  Smithers,  "  and  I  'm 
a  little  surprised  that  it  has  n't  occurred  to  you,  Bran- 
dagee." 

"  Speak,  Behemoth  !  "  exclaimed  the  latter. 

"  Abuse.  Not  in  a  general  way,  —  but  personal.  Take 
some  well-known  individual,  —  merchant,  author,  artist,  pol- 
itician, —  it  makes  no  difference,  —  and  prick  him  deep 
enough  to  make  him  cry  out.  His  enemies  will  all  want 
to  read  the  attack,  in  order  to  enjoy  it,  and  his  friends,  out 
of  a  sympathetic  curiosity.  Men  are  made  fools  through 
the  morbid  sensitiveness  which  follows  culture  ;  their  epi- 
dermis is  as  thin  as  the  lining  of  an  egg-shell.  Take 
the  sirong,  working-classes  with  their  tanned,  leathery 
hide  " 

"  Stop,  there !  "  Brandagee  interrupted.  "  I  *ve  got  your 
suggestion,  and  we  can  dispense  with  your  'longshoremen. 
I  have  thought  of  the  matter,  but  Babcock  is  fidgety. 
One's  pen  must  be  split  to  a  hair,  in  order  to  sting  and 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  421 

tickle  just  up  to  the  edge  of  a  personal  assault  or  a  libe" 
suit,  and  not  go  over  the  line.  I  'd  like  to  see  you  try  it, 
Smithers,  with  a  nib  as  broad  as  your  foot.  I  rather  thinb 
you  'd  have  a  chance  of  finding  out  the  thickness  of  youi 
epidermis." 

Nevertheless,  it  was  the  general  opinion  that  the  propo- 
sition was  worth  considering.  Several  individuals  even 
were  suggested  as  appropriate  subjects,  but  on  Brandagee 
hinting  that  the  suggester  should  first  try  his  hand,  the 
enthusiasm  cooled  very  suddenly.  Finally,  it  was  decided 
to  hold  the  plan  in  reserve. 

"  But,"  said  Brandagee,  "  we  must  fix  on  some  expedient. 
Heavens  and  earth !  is  all  our  inventive  talent  exhausted  ? 
We  might  find  a  new  poet,  of  wonderful  promise,  or  a 
pert  female  correspondent,  with  an  alliterative  horticultural 
name,  such  as  Helen  Honeysuckle  or  Belinda  Boneset,  but 
I  don't  know  which  of  you  could  keep  up  the  part  suc- 
cessfully, and  my  hands  are  full.  Then  we  must  have  a 
department  of  -  Answers  to  Correspondents,"  at  least  two 
columns  long ;  replies  to  imaginary  queries  on  every  sub- 
ject under  the  Zodiac,  —  love,  medicine,  history,  eclipses, 
cookery,  Marie  Stuart,  and  Billy  Patterson.  You  fellows 
might  do  that  while  you  are  loafing  here.  There  is  nothing 
in  the  world  easier  to  do,  as  for  instance :  '  Rosalie,  —  If 
the  young  gentleman,  after  picking  up  your  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, put  it  into  his  own  pocket  instead  of  returning 
it  to  you,  we  should  interpret  the  act  as  a  sign  of  attach- 
ment Should  you  desire  a  further  test,  ask  him  for  it, 
and  if  he  blushes,  he  is  yours.' " 

This  suggestion  met  with  great  applause.  We  all  went 
to  work,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour  concocted  a  number 
of  answers.  The  reporter  of  the  Avenger,  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  manufacture  correspondence  from  various  parts 
of  the  world,  was  called  upon  to  write  letters  from  Boston 
and  Philadelphia,  describing  the  sensation  which  the  Oracle 
had  produced  in  those  cities ;  and  by  midnight,  at  which 


422  JOHN  GODFBEY'S  FOB.UNES. 

hour  the  atmosphere  of  the  Cave  was  usually  opaque,  and 
the  tongues  of  some  of  its  occupants  incoherent,  \\e  were 
all  assured  of  the  speedy  triumph  of  our  scheme. 

I  woke  late  next  morning  to  an  uncomfortable  sense  of 
my  empty  pockets.  The  excitement  of  the  previous  even- 
ing was  followed  by  a  corresponding  depression,  and  I  had 
no  courage  to  face  Mrs.  De  Peyster.  I  did  not  go  down  to 
breakfast,  but  waited  until  I  felt  sure  that  she  would  be 
occupied  by  the  supervision  of  her  household,  and  then 
quietly  slipped  out  of  the  house. 

There  was  no  alternative  but  to  adopt  Brandagee's  hint 
and  solicit  an  advance  from  either  Mr.  Babcock  or  Mr. 
Jenks.  The  former  gentleman  being  the  more  cultivated 
of  the  two,  although  I  had  had  but  little  personal  intercourse 
with  him,  he  received  my  first  visit  I  proffered  my  re- 
quest with  a  disgusting  presentiment  that  it  would  be  re- 
fused, —  and  the  event  proved  that  I  was  correct.  It  would 
be  a  violation  of  his  business-habits,  he  said :  still,  if  I 
were  in  immediate  want  of  the  sum,  he  might  make  an 
exception,  if  Mr.  Brandagee  had  not  just  obtained  an  ad- 
vance of  fifty  dollars !  Since  the  paper  could  not  yet  be 
considered  firmly  established,  he  did  not  feel  himself  justi- 
fied in  anticipating  the  outlay  to  any  further  extent. 

I  now  wended  my  way  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Jenks,  and, 
knowing  the  man,  put  on  a  bolder  face.  It  was  not  pleasant 
to  ask  a  favor  of  him,  but  I  could  offer  him  security  in  the 
shape  of  articles ;  it  would  be  simply  anticipating  1  he  sums 
which  would  afterwards  be  due.  After  a  good  deal  of 
hesitation,  he  consented,  and  I  thus  regained  my  good 
standing  with  Mrs.  De  Peyster,  by  cutting  off  a  part  of 
my  future  income.  In  the  mean  time,  however,  I  had  laid 
the  basis  of  a  new  account  with  Miles,  and  thus  commenced 
a  see-saw  of  debt  which  kept  me  in  continual  agitation. 
When  I  was  up  on  one  side,  I  was  down  on  the  other,  and 
each  payment  simply  shifted  my  position.  The  disagreeable 
novelty  of  the  experience  soon  wore  off,  and  the  shifts  and 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  423 

inameuvres  which  at  first  were  so  repulsive  became  endur 
able  from  habit  When,  after  days  of  incessant  worry 
money  came  into  my  hands,  I  could  not  deny  myself  some 
coveted  indulgence  as  a  compensation.  The  former  justi 
fied  the  latter,  and  the  latter  brought  the  former  again  into 
play. 

I  became,  after  a  time,  subject  to  extreme  fluctuations 
of  feeling.  In  moments  of  excitement  I  experienced  an 
exaltation  of  spirits,  in  which  my  difficulties  and  disappoint- 
ments ceased  to  exist  I  was  elevated  above  the  judgment 
of  my  fellow-men ;  I  had  courage  to  kick  aside  the  tram- 
mels which  inclosed  them,  and  to  taste  a  freedom  which 
they  were  incompetent  to  enjoy.  This  condition  was  a 
substitute  for  happiness,  which  I  mistook  for  the  genuine 
article ;  I  clung  to  it  desperately  when  I  felt  the  light  fading 
and  the  colors  growing  dull,  and  the  gray,  blank  fog  drop- 
ping down  from  the  sky.  Then  succeeded  the  state  of 
aimless  apathy,  when  my  days  seemed  weighted  with  a 
weariness  beyond  my  strength  to  bear.  I  could  not  fill  the 
void  space  in  my  heart,  once  glowing  with  the  security  of 
Faith  and  the  brightness  of  Love.  I  spread  my  coveted 
sense  of  Freedom  over  the  gulf,  but  it  would  not  be  hidden  ; 
I  dropped  into  it  every  indulged  delight  of  appetite,  only 
to  hear  a  hollower  clang.  My  principal  satisfaction  —  o» 
what  seemed  such — was  in  the  belief  that  other  men 
differed  from  myself  only  hi  hypocrisy,  —  outwardly  ap- 
pearing to  obey  laws  they  scoffed,  and  carefully  concealing 
their  secret  trespasses. 

But  little  more  than  two  months  had  elapsed  before  I 
was  forced  into  the  conviction  that  my  prospects  were  be- 
coming precarious.  The  sales  of  the  Oracle  began  to  fall 
off;  the  paper  was  diminished  in  size,  in  order  to  reduce 
expenses,  while  professing  (editorially)  to  be  swimming 
along  on  a  flood-tide  of  success,  and  the  remuneration  for 
my  articles  not  only  diminished  in  proportion,  but  was  re- 
luctantly paid.  The  final  resource  of  personal  abuse  had 


424  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

been  tried,  and  Brandagee  must  have  been  mistaken  in  the 
fine  quality  of  his  pen.  for  the  immediate  result  was  a  libel 
suit,  which  so  frightened  Mr.  Babcock  that  he  insisted  on 
avoiding  it  by  retraction  and  apology.  I  had  enough  of 
experience  to  know  that  this  was  the  death-knell  of  the 
enterprise,  and  was  not  deceived  (neither  was  Brandagee, 
I  think)  by  the  galvanic  imitation  of  life  which  remained. 

About  the  same  time  my  see-saw  became  so  delicately 
poised  that  I  lost  my  balance.  My  debt  to  Mrs.  De  Pey- 
ster  had  again  accumulated  ;  her  eyes  were  not  only  coldly 
suspicious,  but  her  tongue  dropped  hints  which  made  me 
both  angry  and  ashamed.  I  determined  to  leave  her  house 
as  soon  as  it  was  possible  to  settle  the  account ;  but  it  was 
not  possible,  and,  utterly  unable  to  endure  my  situation, 
I  put  a  single  shirt  and  my  toilet  articles  into  my  pocket, 
and  leaving  the  rest  of  my  effects  behind,  walked  away. 
There  was  a  miserable  attic,  miserably  furnished,  in  Crosby 
Street  not  far  from  the  Ichneumon,  to  be  had  for  five  dol- 
lars a  month,  paid  in  advance.  This  was  cheap  enough, 
provided  I  could  raise  the  five  dollars.  I  remembered  my 
loan  of  that  amount  to  Brandagee,  and  asked  him  to  return 
it 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "  I  thought  you  understood 
that  I  never  pay  a  loan.  It  would  be  ridiculous  to  contra- 
dict my  principles  in  that  way." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  lend  me  the  same  amount" 

"  Ah,  you  put  the  matter  in  a  more  sensible  form.  I  '11 
lend  you  five,  or  five  hundred,  as  soon  as  I  get  it ;  but  be- 
hold ! " 

He  turned  his  pockets  inside  out 

I  plainly  told  him  what  I  had  done,  and  that  I  was  now 
without  a  penny  to  buy  a  meal  or  pay  for  a  lodging. 

"  That  's  rather  a  bore,"  said  he,  coolly,  k'  the  first  time 
you  try  it  —  but  one  gets  used  to  it  like  anything  else. 
It 's  a  seasoning  that  will  do  you  no  harm,  Godfrey  ;  I  've 
been  ground  in  that  mill  a  dozen  times,  I  presume.  P 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  426 

rould  amuse  you  to  hear  of  some  of  the  dodges  I  've  been 
•ip  to.  Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  that  time  in  Rome  ?  " 

I  would  not  stop  to  hear  his  story,  but  left  in  a  high  state 
of  exasperation.  There  remained  one  friend,  who  would 
help  me  if  he  could,  though  he  straitened  himself  thereby. 

had  not  seen  him  for  some  weeks,  and  felt,  I  am  glad  to 
say,  a  good  deal  of  shame  at  seeking  him  now  only  to  make 
use  of  him.  I  hurried  across  to  Hester  Street,  and  was 
bout  to  ring  the  bell  at  Mrs.  Very's  door  when  it  opened 
and  he  came  out.  I  was  shocked  to  see  how  his  eyes  had 
sunk  and  how  hollow  and  transparent  his  cheeks  had  grown ; 
but  something  of  the  old  brightness  returned  when  he  saw 
me,  and  his  voice  had  the  old  tone  as  he  said,  — 

"  I  was  afraid  you  had  forgotten  me,  Godfrey." 

"  I  have  only  been  busy,  Swansford,  but  I  mean  to  make 
up  for  my  neglect  You  '11  think  I  take  a  strange  way  of 
doing  it  to-day,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  come  for  help." 

"  And  you  so  much  stronger  than  I  ?  " 

"  Not  half  so  strong,  Swansford.  Here,  in  this  pocket 
over  the  heart,  and  in  all  the  others,  animation  is  suspended. 
Can  you  lend  me  ten  dollars  for  a  day  or  two  ?  " 

I  had  known  of  his  more  than  once  sending  that  amount 
to  his  mother  or  sister,  and  supposed  that  he  might  have 
it  on  hand.  The  delay  of  a  day  or  two,_  until  I  should  re- 
pay him,  would  make  little  difference. 

"  I  can,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  but  it  will 
take  about  all  I  have.  However,  I  can  get  along  for  two 
lays  —  or  three  —  without  it.  I  hope  you  have  not  been 
unfortunate,  Godfrey?" 

Swansford  had  thought  me  wrong  in  giving  up  my  situa- 
tion in  the  Wonder  office,  and  all  my  assurances  of  plentiful 
earnings  afterwards  had  not  reconciled  him  to  the  step. 
My  present  application  seemed  to  justify  bis  doubt,  and 
this  thought,  I  fancied,  prompted  his  question.  Not  yet, 
however,  could  I  confess  to  him  —  since  I  stubbornly  re 
oised  to  confess  to  myself — the  mistake  I  had  made. 


426  JOHN  GODFRErS  FORTUNES. 

u  Oh,  no,"  I  said,  assuming  a  gay,  careless  air.  "  I  have 
been  lending,  too,  and  find  myself  unexpectedly  short  In 
a  day  or  two  I  shall  be  all  right  again." 

Dear  old  fellow  —  how  relieved  he  looked  !  I  tried  to 
persuade  myself,  for  his  sake,  that  I  had  spoken  the  truth ; 
and,  indeed,  a  little  effort  placed  my  condition  in  a  much 
less  gloomy  light.  My  expenses,  I  reasoned,  would  now  be 
reduced  to  the  minimum  ;  half  the  sum  would  give  me 
lodging  for  a  month,  and  the  remaining  half  would  supply 
me  with  food  for  a  fortnight,  in  which  time  I  could  earn, 
not  only  enough  to  repay  the  loan  but  to  relieve  me  from  the 
necessity  of  making  another.  It  would  be  necessary,  how- 
ever, to  give  up  my  dissipated  way  of  life,  and  this  I  virtu- 
ously resolved  to  do  —  for  a  few  weeks. 

Swansford  was  on  his  way  to  give  a  music-lesson  in  Rut- 
gers Street,  but  first  went  back  to  his  room  to  get  the  money. 
I  accompanied  him,  and  could  not  help  noticing  how  ex- 
hausted he  appeared  after  mounting  the  last  flight  of  steps. 
He  dropped  into  a  chair,  panting ;  then,  seeing  my  anxious 
look,  said  in  a  feeble  voice,  — 

"  It 's  nothing,  Godfrey.  I  've  been  working  a  little  too 
hard  this  winter.  The  symphony,  you  know,  —  it 's  nearly 
finished,  and  1  can't  rest,  now,  until  I  've  written  the  last  bar. 
I  wish  I  had  time  to  play  it  to  you." 

"  You  shall  let  me  have  the  whole  of  it,  Swansford. 
And  I  '11  bring  Brandagee,  who  must  write  an  article  about 
it.  He  is  always  on  the  lookout  for  something  new,  and  no- 
body better  understands  how  to  make  a  sensation.  You  '11 
be  a  famous  man  before  you  're  six  months  older  !  " 

A  quick,  bright  spark  flashed  from  his  eyes,  but  instantly 
faded,  leaving  a  faint,  sad  smile  behind  it.  He  sighed  and 
murmured  to  himself,  "  I  don't  know."  Then  he  gave  me 
the  money.  I  felt  my  hand  trembling  as  I  took  it,  but  this 
might  have  teen  the  faintness  of  hunger.  I  had  eaten 
nothing  for  twenty-four  hours. 

On  reaching  the  Bowery,  I  went  into  the  first  cellar  and 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  42J 

strengthened  myself  with  a  beafsteak  and  a  bottle  of  ale 
Then  I  secured  the  attic  for  a  month,  purchased  writing 
materials  and  sat  down  with  the  firm  resolution  to  complete 
a  sensational  story  before  allowing  myself  a  moment's  pause, 
except  for  sleep.  It  was  a  dark,  raw  day  of  early  March  ; 
there  was  no  fire  in  the  shabby  room,  and  the  dull  daylight 
became  almost  dusk  after  passing  through  the  unwashed 
panes.  I  had  no  table,  but  the  rickety  wash-stand  would 
answer  the  purpose,  and  there  was  a  single  wooden  chair. 
The  meat  and  drink  had  warmed  me,  and  thus,  with  my 
over-coat  on  my  back,  and  the  ragged  bed-quilt,  breaking 
out  in  spots  of  cotton  eruption,  over  my  knees,  I  commenced 
ihe  work  with  a  tolerable  stock  of  courage.  My  subject 
was  of  the  ghastly  order,  and  admitted  of  an  extravagant 
treatment,  for  which  I  was  in  the  most  congenial  mood. 
Page  after  page  of  manuscript  was  written  and  cast  aside, 
until  the  pen  dropped  from  my  benumbed  fingers,  and  the 
chill  from  my  icy  feet  crept  up  my  legs  and  sent  shudders 
through  my  body. 

It  was  now  dusk  outside,  and  would  soon  be  darkness 
within.  The  sense  of  my  forlorn,  wretched  condition  re- 
turned upon  me,  and  the  image  of  the  Cave,  with  its  com- 
fortable warmth  and  its  supply  of  mental  and  physical 
stimulus,  came  to  tempt  me  away.  But  no,  for  Swansford's 
sake  I  would  renounce  even  this  indulgence.  I  would  go 
out  and  walk  the  streets,  to  thaw  my  frozen  blood,  and  ar- 
range, in  my  brain,  the  remainder  of  my  task. 

How  long  I  walked  I  cannot  tell.  I  have  an  impression 
of  having  three  times  heard  the  wind  sweeping  through 
the  leafless  trees  on  the  Battery,  and  as  often  through  the 
trees  in  Union  Square ;  but  my  mind  was  so  concentrated 
upon  the  wild,  morbid  details  of  my  story  that  they  held  it 
fast  when  I  had  grown  weary  of  the  subject,  and  would 
gladly  have  escaped  it.  Then  I  went  to  bed,  to  start  and 
toss  all  night  in  that  excited  condition  which  resembles  de- 
lirium rather  than  sleep,  and  leaves  exhaustion  instead  of 
refreshment  behind  it 


428  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

By  noon  the  next  day  the  task  was  completed,  and  I  left 
it  in  the  hands  of  the  editor  of  a  popular  magazine  in 
which  a  few  of  my  sketches  had  already  appeared.  1 
should  have  to  wait  a  day  or  two  for  his  decision  ;  my 
brain,  fagged  by  the  strain  upon  it,  refused  to  suggest  a 
new  theme,  and  yet  my  time  was  a  blank  which  must  be 
somehow  filled.  The  flame  of  my  good  resolution  burned 
lower  and  lower,  —  gave  a  final  convulsive  flicker  as  I 
passed  the  door  of  the  Ichneumon,  —  went  out,  and  I 
turned  back  and  entered.  Did  I  think  of  Swansford  as 
the  door  closed  behind  me  ?  Alas  !  I  fear  not  I  only  fe.lt 
the  warm  atmosphere  envelop  me  like  a  protecting  mantle : 
I  only  heard,  in  the  jovial  voices  which  welcomed  my  com- 
ing, release  from  the  loneliness  I  could  no  longer  endure. 

The  season  of  late,  bitter  cold  which  followed  seemed, 
like  a  Nemesis,  to  drive  me  back  upon  my  vagabond  life, 
and  every  other  circumstance  combined  to  fasten  me  in  its 
meshes.  B}  the  time  the  editor  had  decided  to  accept  my 
story,  the  sum  I  received  for  it  was  balanced  by  Miles's  bill. 
He  knew  as  well  when  there  was  money  in  my  pocket  as  if 
he  had  counted  it,  and  a  refusal  to  pay  would  have  shut  me 
out  from  my  only  place  of  refuge.  Jenks  would  no  longer 
advance  upon  my  articles,  but  began  to  hint  that  they  now 
ceased  to  meet  the  popular  taste.  He  thought  of  engaging 
one  of  the  comic  writers,  whose  misspelled  epistles  were  in 
great  demand,  at  a  hundred  dollars  a  week ;  it  would  pay 
better  than  ten  for  mine,  —  there  was  too  much  "  cut  and 
slash  "  in  the  latter.  I  saw  what  was  coming. 

Brandagee  —  against  whose  avowed  selfishness,  backed 
as  it  was  by  his  powers  of  raillery,  my  indignation  could 
not  maintain  itself — furnished  me,  now  and  then,  with  a 
morsel  of  occupation.  But  what  an  occupation  it  was  for 
one  who,  three  years  before,  had  determined  to  write  his 
name  among  the  laurelled  bards !  I  was  to  furnish  poetic 
advertisements  for  the  manufacturer  of  a  new  dentifrice ! 
Once  the  imagined  brother  of  Irving,  Bryant,  atd  Longfel- 


JOHN   GODFREY'S    FORTUNES.  42i> 

low,  I  now  found  myself  the  rival  of  Napoleon  B.  Quigg 
and  Julia  Carey  Reinhardt !  I  had  reached,  indeed,  the 
lowest  pit  of  literature,  —  but,  no !  there  is  a  crypt  under 
this,  whose  workers  are  unknown  and  whose  works  hide 
themselves  in  "  sealed  envelopes."  Let  that  be  a  comfort 
to  me! 

I  could  not  think  of  the  manner  in  which  I  had  sneaked 
away  from  Mrs.  De  Peyster,  and  deceived  Swansford,  with- 
out a  pang  of  self-contempt.  It  has  cost  me  no  little  effort 
to  record  my  own  humiliation,  but  I  dare  not  mutilate  the 
story  of  my  fortunes.  If  the  pure,  unselfish  aspirations  of 
my  early  youth  had  been  allowed  to  realize  themselves  in 
one  smooth,  unchecked  flow  of  prosperity,  I  should  have  nc 
srory  to  relate.  In  an  artistic  sense  I  am  my  own  hero,  — 
but,— 

"  What  I  seem  to  myself,  do  you  ask  of  me? 
No  hero,  I  confess. " 


430  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

IN   WHICH    I    HEAR    FOOTSTEPS. 

IF  the  manner  of  life  I  have  just  described  had  <xxne 
upon  me  naturally,  through  some  radical  deficiency  of  prin- 
ciple, I  should  have  carelessly  and  easily  adapted  myself  to 
it.  I  have  known  men  who  were  always  cheerful  under 
similar  embarrassments,  and  who  enjoyed  as  well  as  ad- 
mired the  adroitness  of  their  expedients  of  relief.  Such  are 
the  true  Zingari  of  a  high  civilization,  who  pitch  the  tent, 
light  the  camp-fire,  and  plunder  the  hen-roost,  in  the  midst 
of  great  cities.  They  are  born  with  the  brown  blood  in 
their  veins,  and  are  drawn  together  by  its  lawless  instinct 

I,  however,  had  been  pushed  out  of  that  sphere  of  order 
in  which  my  nature  properly  belonged,  partly  by  the  shock 
of  cruel  disappointments  and  partly  by  the  revolt  of  appe- 
tites common  to  every  young  man  whose  blood  is  warm  and 
whose  imagination  is  lively.  When  the  keen  edge  of  the 
former  and  the  rampant  exultation  of  the  latter  began  to 
be  dulled,  there  was  no  satisfaction  left  to  me,  except  in 
forgetfulness  of  my  former  self.  I  heard,  from  time  to  time, 
the  whispers  of  duty  and  the  groans  of  conscience,  and  felt 
that  if  the  two  antagonistic  powers  within  me  were  allowed 
to  come  together  in  a  fresh  struggle,  the  result  would  be  — 
Despair.  With  my  present  knowledge  I  see  that  such  a 
struggle  was  inevitable,  —  that  a  crisis  was  embraced  in  the 
very  nature  of  my  disease,  —  but  then  I  only  craved  peace, 
and  eagerly  swallowed  every  moral  narcotic  which  promised 
to  bring  it 

There  were  already  symptoms  of  Spring,  when  my  montk 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  481 

in  the  attic  drew  to  an  end.  Days  of  perfect  sunshine  and 
delicious  air  fell  upon  the  city,  mellowing  its  roaring  noises 
softening  into  lilac  and  violet  the  red  vistas  of  its  streets, 
touching  its  marbles  with  golden  gleams,  and  coaxing  the 
quick  emerald  of  the  grass  to  its  scattered  squares.  Most 
unhappy  were  such  days  to  me,  for  the  tender  prophecies 
of  the  season  forced  my  thoughts  to  the  future,  and  into 
that  blank  I  could  not  look  without  dismay. 

By  this  time  my  condition  was  indeed  wretched.  My 
single  suit  of  clothes  grew  shabby  from  constant  wear,  and 
my  two  shirts,  even  with  the  aid  of  paper-collars,  failed  to 
meet  the  requirements  of  decency.  I  had  previously  been 
scrupulously  neat  in  my  dress,  but  now  I  was  more  than 
slovenly,  and  I  saw  the  reflection  of  this  change  in  the 
manners  of  my  associates.  My  degradation  expressed  it- 
self in  my  garments,  and  covered  me  from  head  to  foot, 
touching  the  surface  of  my  nature  in  every  point  as  they 
touched  my  skin. 

For  another  month's  rent  of  my  lodging  I  depended  on 
the  six  dollars  which  I  was  to  receive  for  three  poems  in- 
spired by  the  new  dentrifice.  The  arrangement  with  the 
proprietor  of  this  article  had  been  made  by  Brandagee,  who 
stated  that  he  had  a  contract  for  furnishing  the  literature. 
He  took  to  himself  some  credit  for  allowing  me  a  portion 
of  the  work.  I  was  anxious  to  meet  him  before  evening, 
as  Miles  had  a  bill  of  some  two  dollars  against  me,  and  the 
most  important  debt  must  be  first  paid  ;  but  I  visited  all 
of  Brandagee's  usual  haunts  in  vain.  Tired  at  last,  and 
quite  desperate,  I  betook  myself  to  the  Cave  and  awaited 
his  coming. 

Any  combination  of  circumstances  which  one  specially 
fears,  is  almost  sure  to  occur.  My  account  at  the  Ichneu- 
mon was  settled,  as  I  had  anticipated,  and  there  was  not 
enough  left  for  the  advance  on  my  lodgings.  Brandagee 
was  in  an  ill-humor,  and  paid  no  attention  to  my  excited 
representations  of  my  condition. 


432  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Godfrey  !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  it 's  ridicu 
lous  to  make  a  fuss  about  such  trifles  when  one  of  the 
best-planned  schemes  ever  set  a-foot  is  frustrated.  Do 
you  know  that  the  Oracle  is  laid  out,  stark  and  stiff?  The 
next  number  will  be  the  last,  and  I  've  a  mind  to  leave  one 
side  blank,  as  a  decent  shroud  to  spread  over  its  corpse. 
Babcock  swears  he  's  sunk  three  thousand  dollars,  as  if  a 
paper  must  n't  always  sink  five  in  the  beginning  to  gain 
twenty-five  in  the  end !  If  he  had  kept  it  up  one  year,  as 
I  insisted  upon  his  doing,  it  would  have  proved  a  fortune 
for  him  and  all  of  us." 

I  was  not  surprised  at  this  announcement,  nor  was  I  par- 
ticularly grieved,  since  the  emoluments  promised  to  me  at 
the  start  had  never  been  forthcoming.  After  a  few  pota- 
tions, Brandagee  recovered  his  spirits,  and  made  merry 
over  the  demise  of  his  great  scheme.  He  proposed  sub- 
stituting the  title  of  "  Catacombs "  for  the  Cave  of  Tro- 
phonius,  and  declared  his  intention  of  having  a  funeral 
inscription  placed  over  the  chimney-piece. 

"  Du  Moulin,"  he  said,  —  "  you  know  him,  —  the  author 
of  '  La  Fille  EgareeJ  —  always  buried  his  unsuccessful 
works  in  the  family  cemetery.  I  spent  a  week  with  him 
once,  at  his  chateau  near  Orleans,  and  he  took  me  to  see 
the  place.  There  they  were  in  a  row,  mixed  together,  — 
the  children  of  the  brain  and  the  children  of  the  body 
First  Elise,  a  little  daughter ;  then  '  Henriette,'  a  novel, 
with  '  still-born,'  on  the  tombstone  ;  then  his  son  Adolphe, 
and  then  the  tragedy  of  'Memnon,'  the  failure  of  which 
he  ascribed  to  the  jealousy  of  a  rival  author,  so  he  had 
inscribed  on  the  stone,  '  assassine  !  '  But  only  one  imper- 
sonation of  my  plan  dies  with  the  Oracle,  —  there  must  be 
another  avatar !  There  is  no  reason  under  heaven  why  I 
should  not  be  as  successful  here  as  Fiorentino  in  Paris.  I 
shall  have  to  adopt  his  tactics,  —  work  through  the  papers 
already  established  instead  of  setting  up  a  new  one.  I  am 
tolerably  sure  of  the  Monitor  and  the  Avenger,  and  I  might 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  4#O 

have  the  Wonder  also,  if  you  had  not  been  such  a  fool  as 
to  give  up  your  place  on  it,  Godfrey." 

"  It  was  your  representations  that  led  me  to  do  it !  "  I 
angrily  retorted. 

"  Come,  come,  don't  charge  me  with  your  own  greenness ! 
If  a  fellow  takes  my  assertions  for  his  guide,  he  '11  have  a 
devilish  zigzag  to  run.  I  suspect  you  've  been  trying  to 
strike  a  diagonal  between  morality  and  enjoyment,  and 
have  spoiled  yourself  for  either.  But  it  may  be  possible 
to  get  back  your  place  :  I  always  thought  Old  Clarendor. 
had  a  sort  of  patronizing  liking  for  you." 

I  knew  what  Brandagee's  object  was,  — for  what  use  he 
designed  me,  and  feared  the  consummate  dexterity  of  his 
tongue.  There  was  something  utterly  repulsive  to  me  in 
the  idea  of  going  back  and  humiliating  myself  before  Mr. 
Clarendon,  in  order  to  insinuate  articles  intended  to  extort 
black-mail,  —  for  Brandagee's  "great"  scheme  meant  noth- 
ing else,  —  into  the  columns  of  his  paper.  Yet,  after  what 
had  happened,  I  no  longer  felt  sure  of  myself. 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  deliberately  resolved  to 
escape  at  once  from  my  self-loathing  and  from  this  new 
temptation,  by  the  intoxication  of  wine.  In  all  my  previ- 
ous indulgence,  —  even  when  surrounded  by  a  reckless  and 
joyously-excited  company,  —  I  had  never  lost  the  control 
of  brain  or  body.  Some  protecting  instinct  either  held  me 
back  from  excess,  or  neutralized  its  effects.  I  knew  the 
stages  of  exhilaration,  of  confidence,  of  tenderness,  and  of 
boastful  vanity,  —  but  further  than  those  vestibules,  I  had 
never  entered  the  House  of  Circe. 

I  ordered  a  bottle  of  Sauterne  —  my  favorite  wine  — 
and  began  to  drink.  I  fancy  Brandagee  guessed  the  secret 
of  this  movement,  and  believed  that  it  would  deliver  me 
the  more  easily  into  his  hands.  But  I  cannot  be  sure  ;  my 
recollection  of  the  commencement  of  the  evening  is  made 
indistinct  by  the  event  with  which  it  closed.  There  were, 
at  first,  two  other  persons  present,  —  Mears  and  one  of  the 
28 


484  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

comic  writers,  —  and  I  do  not  know  precisely  at  what  houi 
they  left,  but  I  know  that  Brandagee  waited  until  then  to 
commence  his  attack. 

I  finished  one  bottle  and  was  half-way  down  the  second 
before  I  felt  any  positive  effect  from  the  beverage.  Then, 
although  my  feet  and  hands  glowed,  and  the  humming  of 
the  quickened  blood  in  my  veins  was  audible  in  my  ears, 
my  mind  seemed  to  brood,  undisturbed  and  stern,  above 
the  tumult  The  delicate  flavor  of  the  wine  faded  on  my 
palate ;  a  numbness,  resembling  a  partial  paralysis,  crept 
over  my  body,  —  but  in  my  brain  the  atmosphere  grew 
more  quiet,  sober,  and  gloomy.  The  mysterious  telegraph 
which  carries  the  commands  of  the  will  to  the  obedient 
muscles  seemed  to  be  out  of  order,  —  I  had  lost,  not  the 
power,  but  the  knowledge  of  using  it.  I  sat  like  the  En- 
chanted Prince,  half  marble,  and  my  remaining  senses 
grew  keener  from  their  compression.  My  mental  vision 
turned  inwards  and  was  fixed  upon  myself  with  wonderful 
sharpness  and  power.  Brandagee  commenced  his  prom- 
ises and  persuasions,  deceived  by  my  silence,  and  not 
dreaming  how  little  I  heeded  them.  I  heard  his  voice, 
thrust  far  away  by  the  intentness  of  my  thoughts,  and 
nodded  or  assented  mechanically  from  time  to  time.  To 
talk  —  much  less  discuss  the  matter  with  him  —  was  im- 
possible. 

I  was  in  a  condition  resembling  catalepsy  rather  than 
intoxication.  While  perfectly  aware  of  external  sounds 
and  sights,  I  was  apparently  dead  to  them  in  that  luminous 
revelation  of  my  own  nature  which  I  was  forced  to  read. 
I  saw  myself  as  some  serene-eyed  angel  might  have  seen, 
with  every  white  virtue  balanced  by  its  shadowed  vice, 
every  deviation  from  the  straight,  manly  line  of  life  laid 
bare  in  a  blaze  of  light,  I  recognized  what  a  part  vanity 
had  played  in  my  fortunes,  —  with  what  cowardice  I  had 
shrunk  from  unwelcome  truths,  instead  of  endeavoring  to 
assimilate  their  tonic  bitterness,  —  and,  above  all,  how  con- 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  435 

teinptible  had  been  the  results  of  indulgence  compared 
with  the  joyous  release  I  had  anticipated.  It  was  a  pas- 
sionless, objective  survey,  which  overlooked  even  the  fluc- 
tuations of  my  feelings,  and  curiously  probed  the  very 
wounds  it  gave. 

I  saw,  further,  that  I  had  been  miserably  weak  in  allow- 
ing three  circumstances  —  important  as  was  their  bearing 
on  my  happiness  —  to  derange  the  ordered  course  of  my 
life,  and  plunge  me  into  ruin.  For  a  youth  whose  only- 
gifts  were  a  loving  heart,  a  sanguine  temperament,  and  an 
easy,  fluent  power  of  expression,  I  had  not  been  unsuccess 
ful.  I  rather  wondered  now,  perceiving  my  early  igno 
ranee,  that  so  few  obstacles  had  been  thrown  in  my  way 
I  supposed  that  I  had  performed  marvels  of  energy,  but 
here  I  had  failed  in  the  first  test  of  my  strength  as  a  man. 
If  Isabel  Haworth  had  unjustly  repulsed  me,  I  had  since 
then  justified  her  act  a  hundred  times.  Fool  and  coward, 
—  aspiring  to  be  author,  lover,  man  ;  yet  flinging  aside,  at 
the  start,  that  patience  without  which  either  title  is  impos- 
sible ! 

I  saw  clearly,  I  say,  what  I  had  become  —  but  my  clair- 
voyance went  no  further.  There  was  the  void  space  whence 
I  had  torn  my  belief  in  human  honesty  and  affection,  and 
close  beside  it  that  more  awful  chamber,  once  bright  with 
undoubting  reliance  on  The  Father  and  His  Wisdom,  but 
now  filled  with  a  twilight  which  did  not  dare  to  become 
darkness.  How  was  I  to  restore  these  shattered  faiths,  and, 
through  them,  my  shattered  life?  This  was  the  question 
which  still  mocked  me.  It  seemed  that  I  was  condemned 
vo  behold  myself  forever  in  a  mirror  the  painful  brightness 
of  which  blinded  me  to  everything  else. 

I  had  placed  my  elbows  on  the  table  and  rested  my  face 
on  my  hands  while  undergoing  this  experience.  It  was 
late  in  the  night.  I  had  ceased  to  hear  Brandagee's  voice, 
or  even  to  think  of  it,  when,  little  by  little,  its  tones,  in  con 
versation  with  some  one  else,  forced  themselves  upon  mj 
ear. 


436  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  I  tell  you  it 's  trying  to  shirk  your  agreement,"  he  said, 
*  when  I  've  done  my  part  I  've  almost  made  your  fortune 
already." 

"  Not  as  I  knows  on,  you  ha  'n't !  "  replied  another  voice, 
which  I  recognized  as  belonging  to  Miles.  "  It  'ardly  pays 
me.  Leastways  the  profits  on  the  gents  you  brings  'ere 
don't  begin  to  pay  for  your  drinks  any  longer.  It  won't  do, 
Mr.  Brandagee." 

"  Why,  this  one  here  has  put  six  dollars  into  your  pocket 
to-night" 

"  Can't  'e  'ear  you  ?  "  whispered  Miles. 

"  No :  he  's  drunk  as  a  loon.     Godfrey  !  " 

He  called  in  a  low  tone,  then  louder,  —  "  Godfrey ! "  1 
do  not  believe  I  could  have  answered,  if  I  had  tried.  My 
jaws  were  locked. 

"  They  'd  spend  more  if  you  'd  pay  'em  more,"  Miles  con- 
tinued. "  I  'eard  y'r  bargain  about  the  tooth-powder  that 
day  Dr.  What's-'is-name  was  'ere  —  five  dollars  apiece,  it 
was,  and  you  gives  'im  there  two,  and  puts  three  in  your 
hown  pocket  Them  three  'd  be  spent  'ere,  if  you  hacted 
fairly.  Besides,  it  was  n't  understood  that  you  were  to 
come  and  drink  free,  hevery  day.  I  would  n't  ha'  made 
that  sort  of  a  bargain ;  I  knows  'ow  much  you  can  'old." 

Brandagee  laughed  and  said,  — "  Well,  well,  I  shall  not 
come  so  often  in  future.  Perhaps  not  at  all.  There  's  a 
good  fellow  going  to  open  in  Spring  Street,  and  he  thinks 
of  calling  his  place  the  Ornithorhyncus  paradoxus,  —  the 
name  you  would  n't  have,  Miles.  If  he  does,  it 's  likely  we 
shall  go  there." 

Miles  hemmed  and  coughed ;  he  evidently  disliked  this 
suggestion.  "  There  goes  the  door,"  he  said,  —  "  somebody 
for  the  bar.  Come  out  and  we  '11  'ave  a  brandy  together 
before  you  go." 

The  disclosure  of  Brandagee's  meanness  which  I  had 
just  heard  scarcely  excited  a  ripple  of  surprise  or  indig- 
nation on  the  fixed,  glassy  surface  of  my  consciousness 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  437 

Wearied  with  the  contemplation  of  my  own  failure,  all  mj 
faculties  united  themselves  in  a  desperate  craving  for  help, 
until  this  condition  supplanted  the  former  and  grew  to  the 
same  intensity. 

Presently  Brandagee  rose  and  went  into  the  bar-room, 
and  I  was  left  alone.  In  the  silence  my  feeling  became  a 
prayer.  I  struggled  to  find  the  trace  of  some  path  which 
might  lead  me  out  of  the  evil  labyrinth,  —  but  I  could  not 
think  or  reason  :  it  was  blind,  agonizing  groping  in  the 
dark. 

Suddenly,  I  knew  not  how  or  where,  a  single  point  of 
light  shot  out  of  the  gloom.  It  revealed  nothing,  but  I 
trembled  lest  I  was  deceived  by  my  own  sensations,  and 
was  beginning  to  hope  in  vain.  Far  away,  —  somewhere 
in  remote  space,  it  seemed,  —  I  heard  the  faint  sound  of  a 
footstep.  I  could  count  its  regular  fall,  like  the  beating  of 
a  slow,  strong  pulse  ;  I  waited  breathlessly,  striving  to  hold 
back  the  dull,  rapid  throb  of  my  heart,  lest  I  should  lose 
the  sound.  But  the  sense  of  light  grew,  spreading  out  in 
soft  radiations  from  the  starry  point,  and,  as  it  grew,  the 
sound  of  the  footsteps  seemed  to  draw  nearer.  A  strange 
excitement  possessed  me.  I  lifted  my  head  from  my 
hands,  placed  a  hollow  palm  behind  my  ear,  and  threw 
my  whole  soul  into  that  single  sense.  Still  I  heard  the 
sound,  —  distant,  but  clearly  audible  in  its  faintly  ringing 
beat,  and  clung  to  it  as  if  its  cessation  were  the  beginning 
of  deeper  disgrace,  and  its  approach  that  of  a  regenerated 
life! 

It  could  not  have  been  two  minutes  —  but  an  age  of  sus 
pense  was  compressed  into  the  brief  period  —  while  I  thus 
sat  and  listened.  A  voice  within  me  cried  out,  "  It  is  for 
me !  Do  not  let  it  pass,  —  rise  and  go  to  meet  it ! "  My 
marble  enchantment  was  broken  ;  I  sprang  to  my  feet, 
seized  my  hat,  and  hastened  out  of  the.  Cave.  Miles  and 
Brandagee,  with  each  a  steaming  glass  in  hand,  were 
lounging  against  the  bar.  The  latter  called  to  me  as  I 


438  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

passed,  but  I  paid  no  heed  to  him.  Both  of  them  laughed 
as  the  street-door  closed  behind  me. 

It  was  a  cool,  windless,  starry  night.  The  bells  were 
striking  midnight,  and  I  set  my  teeth  and  clenched  my  fists 
with  impatience  for  the  vibration  of  the  last  stroke  to  cease 
that  I  might  listen  again  for  the  footstep  One  such  sound, 
hideed,  I  heard  between  the  strokes,  —  a  man  coming  down 
ihe  opposite  side  of  the  street,  but  it  was  not  the  step  I 
awaited :  it  was  too  light  and  quick.  When  he  had  gone 
by  and  only  the  confused  sounds  of  the  night,  far  or  near, 
stirred  the  air,  I  caught  again  the  familiar  footfall.  It 
appeared  to  be  approaching  Crosby  Street  from  Broadway, 
through  the  next  cross-street  below.  I  was  sure  it  was 
the  same :  there  was  no  mistaking  the  strong,  slow,  even 
march,  slightly  ringing  on  the  flagged  sidewalk.  What 
would  it  bring  to  me  ? 

Nearer  and  nearer,  —  but  I  could  not  advance  to  meet 
it.  I  waited,  with  fast-beating  heart,  under  the  lamp,  and 
counted  every  step  until  I  felt  that  the  next  one  would 
bring  the  man  into  view.  It  came,  —  he  was  there!  He 
made  two  steps  forward,  as  if  intending  to  keep  the  cross- 
street,  —  paused,  and  presently  turned  up  the  sidewalk 
towards  me.  My  eyes  devoured  his  figure,  but  there  was 
nothing  about  it  which  I  recognized.  A  strong,  broad- 
shouldered  man,  moderately  tall,  with  his  head  bent  for- 
ward as  if  in  meditation,  and  his  pace  as  regular  as  the  tick 
of  a  watch.  Once  he  lifted  his  head  and  looked  towards 
me,  and  I  saw  the  outline  of  a  bushy  whisker  on  each  side 
of  his  face. 

In  three  seconds  more  he  would  pass  me.  I  stood  mo- 
tionless, in  the  middle  of  the  sidewalk,  awaiting  his  coming. 
One  step,  —  two,  —  three,  and  he  was  upon  me.  He  cast 
a  quick  glance  towards  me,  swerved  a  little  from  his 
straight  course,  and  strode  past.  "  Fool !  fool !  "  I  cried  to 
myself,  bitterly.  As  I  did  so,  the  footstep  paused.  I 
turned  and  saw  him  also  turn  and  step  rapidly  back 


JOHN"  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  489 

towards  me.  His  head  was  lifted  and  he  looked  keenl) 
and  curiously  into  my  face. 

••  Why,  John  —  John  Godfrey,  is  it  you  ?  " 

He  had  me  by  both  hands  before  the  words  were  out  of 
his  mouth.  One  clear  view  of  that  broad,  homely,  manlj 
face  in  the  lamplight,  and  I  cried,  in  a  voice  full  of  joy  and 
tears,  — 

"  Bob  Simmons !  Dear  old  friend,  God  has  sent  you  to 
save  me ! " 

Bob  Simmons,  my  boyish  comrade,  whom  I  had  almost 
forgotten !  In  the  Providence  which  led  him  to  me  at  that 
hour  and  in  that  crisis  of  my  fortunes,  my  fears  of  a  blind 
Chance,  or  a  baleful,  pursuing  Fate,  were  struck  down  for- 
ever. Light  came  back  to  the  dusky  chamber  of  my  heart, 
and  substance  to  the  void  space.  I  prefer  not  to  think  that 
my  restoration  to  health  was  already  assured  by  the  previ- 
ous struggle  through  which  my  mind  had  passed,  —  that 
from  the  clearer  comprehension  of  myself,  I  should  have 
worked  up  again  by  some  other  path.  It  is  pleasant  to 
remember  that  the  hand  of  a  brother-man  lent  its  strength 
to  mine,  and  to  believe  that  it  was  the  chosen  instrument 
of  my  redemption  from  evil  ways. 

My  excited,  almost  hysterical  condition  was  incompre- 
hensible to  Bob.  I  saw  the  gladness  in  his  eyes  change  to 
wonder  and  tender  sympathy.  The  next  instant  I  thought. 
he  must  see  the  debasement  which  was  written  all  over  me. 

"  Bob,"  I  said,  "  don't  leave  me,  now  that  I  have  found 
you  again  !  "  There  was  a  noise  of  footsteps  in  the  bar- 
room of  the  Ichneumon  :  Brandagee  was  coming.  Still 
holding  the  hand  of  my  friend,  I  hurried  him  up  the  street. 

"  Where  do  you  live,  John  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nowhere  !  I  am  a  vagabond.  Oh,  Bob,  you  carried  me 
once  in  your  arms  when  I  fell  out  of  the  apple-tree  ;  give 
me  your  hand,  at  least,  now,  when  I  need  your  help  sc 
much  more  than  then  ! " 

Bob  said  nothing,  but  his  hard  fingers  crushed  mine  ip 


440  JOHtf  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES 

a  long  grasp.  Then  he  took  my  arm,  and  resuming  his 
steady  stride,  bore  me  with  him  through  Prince  Street  into 
the  Bowery,  and  a  long  distance  down  Stanton  Street 
Finally  he  stopped  before  a  house,  —  one  of  a  cheaply- 
built,  uniform  block,  —  opened  the  door  with  a  night-key, 
and  drew  me  after  him.  After  some  dark  groping  up  stair- 
cases, I  found  myself  in  a  rear  room.  He  found  a  match, 
lighted  a  candle,  and  I  saw  a  small,  modest  apartment, 
befitting,  in  its  simple  appointments,  the  habits  of  a  labor- 
ing man,  but  really  luxurious  in  contrast  to  the  shabby  attic 
in  "which  I  had  been  housed. 

"  There  ! "  he  exclaimed,  k<  these  is  my  quarters,  sich  as 
they  am  None  too  big,  but  you  're  welcome  to  your  share 
of  'em.  It 's  a  long  time,  John,  since  you  and  me  slept 
together  at  th'  old  farm.  Both  of  us  is  changed,  but  I  'd 
ha'  knowed  you  anywheres." 

u  It  is  a  long  time,  Bob.  I  wish  I  could  go  back  to  it 
again.  Do  you  recollect  what  you  said  to  me  when  we 
were  boys,  just  thinking  of  making  our  start  in  the  world  ? 
It  was  my  head  against  your  hands  ;  look,  now,  to  what  my 
head  has  brought  me  ! " 

O 

Partly  from  shame  and  self-pity,  partly  also  from  the 
delayed  effect  of  the  wine  I  had  drunk,  I  burst  into  tears. 
Poor  Bob  was  inexpressibly  grieved.  He  drew  me  to  the 
little  bed,  sat  down  beside  me,  put  his  arm  around  me,  and 
tried  to  comfort  me  in  the  way  which  first  occurred  to  his 
simple  nature,  by  diminishing  the  force  of  the  contrast 

"  Never  mind,  John,"  he  said.  "  My  hands  ha'n't  done 
nothin'  yit  worth  mentionin'.  I  a'n't  boss,  only  foreman,  — • 
a  sort  o'  head-journeyman,  you  know.  There  's  the  stuff  hi 
you  for  a  dozen  men  like  me." 

I  laid  my  head  upon  his  shoulder  with  the  grateful  sense 
of  reliance  and  protecting  strength  which.  I  imagine,  must 
be  the  bliss  of  a  woman's  heart  when  she  first  feels  herself 
clasped  by  the  arms  of  the  man  she  loves.  Presently  I 
grew  calm  again,  and  commenced  the  confession  of  my  life, 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  44J 

which,  from  beginning  to  end,  I  was  determined  that  Bob 
should  hear.  But  I  had  not  made  much  progress  in  it,  he 
fore  I  felt  that  I  was  growing  deathly  faint  and  sick,  ami 
my  words  turned  to  moans  of  distress. 

Bob  poured  some  water  on  a  towel  and  bathed  my  head 
then  helped  me  to  undress  and  laid  me  in  his  bed.  I  re- 
member only  that,  some  time  afterwards,  he  lay  down  beside 
me  ;  that,  thinking  me  asleep,  he  tenderly  placed  his  hand 
on  my  brow  and  smoothed  back  my  ruffled  hair ;  that  a 
feeling  of  gratitude  struck,  like  a  soft,  sweet  pang,  through 
the  sensation  of  my  physical  wretchedness,  —  and  then  a 
gray  blank  succeeded. 

When  I  awoke,  it  was  daylight.  I  turned  on  my  pillow, 
saw  that  Bob  had  gone  and  that  the  rolling  curtain  had 
been  drawn  down  before  the  window.  My  head  was  pierced 
with  a  splitting  pain ;  my  eyelids  fell  of  their  own  accord, 
and  I  sank  again  into  a  restless  sleep. 

It  must  have  been  afternoon  when  a  light  footstep  aroused 
me.  There  was  a  plain,  pleasant-faced  woman  in  the  room, 
who  came  forward  to  the  bedside,  at  the  movement  I  made. 

"  Where  's  Bob  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  He  went  off  early  to  his  work,  sir.  But  you  're  to  keep 
still  and  rest ;  he  '11  be  back  betimes,  this  evenin.'  And  I 
've  a  cup  o'  tea  ready  for  you,  and  a  bit  o'  toast." 

She  brought  them,  placed  them  on  a  stand  by  the  bed- 
side, and  left  the  room.  I  was  still  weak  and  feverish,  but 
the  refreshment  did  me  good,  and  my  sleep,  after  that,  was 
lighter  and  more  healthful.  It  was  a  new,  delicious  sensa- 
tion, to  feel  that  there  was  somebody  in  the  world  who 
cared  for  me. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  Bob  came  softly  into  the  room. 
I  stretched  out  my  hand  towards  him,  and  the  honest  fellow 
was  visibly  embarrassed  by  the  look  of  gratitude  and  love 
T  fixed  on  his  face. 

"  Y  m  're  comin'  round,  finely ! "  he  cried,  in  a  cheery 
voice.  "  I  would  n't  ha'  left  you,  at  all,  John,  hut  for  the 


442  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

work  dependin'  on  me ;  it 's  that  big  buildin'  down  in  Cort 
landt  Street,  right-hand  side.  But  to-morrow  's  Sunday, 
as  good  luck  will  have  it,  and  so  we  can  spend  the  whole 
day  together." 

Bob  brought  me  some  more  tea,  and  would  have  gone 
out  for  oysters,  "  patridges,"  and  various  other  delicacies 
which  he  suggested,  if  I  had  allowed  him.  His  presence, 
however,  was  what  I  most  craved.  After  the  morbid  in- 
tellectual atmosphere  I  had  breathed  for  the  last  few  months, 
there  was  something  as  fresh  and  bracing  as  mountain 
breezes  in  the  simple,  rude  commingling  of  purely  moral 
and  physical  elements  in  his  nature.  The  course  of  his 
life  was  set,  from  his  very  birth,  and  rolled  straight  forward, 
untroubled  by  painful  self-questioning.  If  a  temptation 
assailed  him,  he  might  possibly  yield  to  it  for  a  moment, 
but  the  next  he  would  recover  his  balance.  An  influence 
of  order  flowed  from  him  into  me,  and  my  views  of  life 
began  to  arrange  themselves  in  accordance  with  it. 

He  was  boarding,  he  informed  me,  with  a  married  fellow- 
workman,  whose  wife  it  was  that  I  had  seen.  He  had  been 
in  New  York  since  the  previous  autumn  ;  it  was  the  best 
place  for  his  trade  and  he  intended  remaining.  The  day 
before  one  of  the  journeymen  had  been  married  ;  there 
was  a  family  party  at  the  bride's  home,  in  Jersey  City ;  he 
had  been  invited,  and  was  on  his  way  back  when  he  met 
me  in  Crosby  Street. 

"  Did  you  think  of  me  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Had  you  a  pre- 
sentiment that  you  would  meet  an  old  friend  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  was  thinkin'  of —  well,  no  matter. 
I  no  more  expected  to  come  across  you,  John,  than  —  than 
Adam.  But  I  'rr  real  glad  it  turned  out  so." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  443 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

IN    WHICH    I   HEED    GOOD    ADVICE,    MAKE   A    DISCOVERT, 
AND    RETURN    TO    MRS.    VERT. 

THE  Sunday  which  followed  was  the  happiest  day  I  had 
known  for  many  months.  I  awoke  with  a  clear  head  and 
a  strong  sense  of  hunger  in  my  stomach,  and  after  making 
myself  as  presentable  as  my  worn  and  dusty  garments  would 
allow,  went  down  with  Bob  to  breakfast  with  the  workman 
and  his  wife.  The  good  people  received  me  civilly,  and 
asked  no  embarrassing  questions.  Bob,  I  surmised,  had 
explained  to  them  my  appearance  in  his  own  way.  So, 
when  the  meal  was  over,  he  remarked,  — 

"  I  guess  I  sha'n't  go  to  church  to-day.  You  won't  want 
to  go  out.  John,  and  I  '11  keep  you  company." 

I  should  gladly  have  accompanied  him,  humbled  and 
penitent,  to  give  thanks  for  the  change  in  my  fortunes,  un- 
certain though  it  still  was,  but  for  the  fear  that  my  appear- 
ance, so  little  like  that  of  a  decent  worshipper,  would  draw 
attention  to  me.  For  Bob's  sake  I  stayed  at  home,  and  he 
for  mine. 

The  time  was  well-spent,  nevertheless.  Confession  is  a 
luxury,  when  one  is  assured  beforehand  of  the  sympathy 
of  the  priest,  and  his  final  absolution.  In  the  little  back 
bedroom,  Bob  sitting  with  his  pipe  at  the  open  window,  1 
told  him  my  story,  from  the  day  I  had  last  seen  him  on  the 
scaffold  in  Honeybrook,  to  the  meeting  of  two  nights  be- 
fore. T  could  not  explain  to  him  the  bearing  of  my  intel- 
lectual aims  on  the  events  of  my  life  :  he  would  not  have 
understood  it  But  the  episodes  of  my  love  touched  our 


144  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

common  nature  and  would  sufficiently  account,  in  his  view 
for  my  late  recklessness.  I  therefore  confined  myself  tc 
those  and  to  such  other  facts  as  I  supposed  he  would  easily 
grasp,  since  he  must  judge  me,  mainly,  by  external  circum- 
stances. 

When  I  had  finished,  I  turned  towards  him  and  said,  — 
*  And  now,  Bob,  what  do  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  Jest  what  I  always  did.  There  's  nothin'  you  Ve  done 
that  one  of  us  hard-fisted  fellows  might  n't  do  every  day, 
and  think  no  more  about  it,  —  onless  it 's  cuttin'  stick  with- 
out settlin'  for  your  board,  and  borrowin'  from  a  needy 
friend  when  you  have  n't  the  means  o'  payin'  him.  But  you 
did  n't  know  that  when  you  borrowed,  —  I  '11  take  my  oath 
on  it.  Your  feelin's  always  was  o'  the  fine,  delicate  kind.  — 
mine  's  sort  o'  coarse-grained  alongside  of  'em,  —  and  it 
seems  to  me  you  've  worried  yourself  down  lower  than 
you  'd  had  any  need  to  ha'  gone.  When  a  man  thinks  he 's 
done  for,  and  it 's  all  day  with  him,  he  '11  step  into  the  fire 
when  he  might  just  as  easy  step  out  of  it.  I  s'pose,  though, 
there  's  more  expected  of  a  man,  the  more  brains  he  has, 
and  the  higher  he  stands  before  the  world.  I  might  swear 
in  moderation,  for  instance,  and  no  great  harm,  while  a 
minister  would  be  damned  if  he  was  to  say  '  damned '  any- 
wheres but  in  his  pulpit." 

"  But  you  see,  Bob,  how  I  have  degraded  myself!  " 

"  Yes,  I  don't  wonder  you  feel  so.  Puttin'  myself  in 
your  place,  I  can  understand  it,  and  't  would  n't  be-  the 
right  thing,  s'posin'  the  case  was  mine.  The  fact  is,  John, 
we  've  each  one  of  us  got  to  take  our  share  of  the  hard 
knocks.  There  's  a  sayin'  among  us  that  a  man  's  got  to 
have  a  brickbat  fall  on  his  head  once't  in  his  life.  Well 
—  when  you  know  it 's  the  rule,  you  may  as  well  grin  and 
bear  it,  like  any  other  man.  I  know  it  comes  hard,  once't 
in  a  while  —  Lord  God,  seme  things  is  hard  !  " 

Bob  pronounced  these  last  words  with  an  energy  that 
startled  me  His  pipe  snapped  in  his  fingers,  and  falling 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  445 

on  the  floor,  was  broken  into  a  dozen  pieces.  "  Blast  the 
pipe ! "  he  exclaimed,  kicking  them  into  a  corner.  Then 
he  arose,  filled  a  fresh  pipe,  lighted  it,  and  quietly  resumed 
his  seat 

"  What  would  you  do  now,"  I  asked,  "  if  you  were  in  my 
place  ?  " 

"  Forgit  what  can't  be  helped,  and  take  a  fresh  start. 
Let  them  fellows  alone  you  've  been  with.  That  Bran- 
dagee  must  be  as  sharp  as  a  razor ;  I  can  see  you  're  no 
match  for  him.  You  seem  to  ha'  been  doin'  well  enough, 
until  you  let  him  lead  you ;  why  not  go  back  to  the  rest  of 
it,  leavin'  him  out  o'  the  bargain  ?  That  editor  now,  —  Clar- 
endon, —  I  'd  go  straight  to  him,  and  if  I  had  to  eat  a 
mouthful  or  so  o'  humble  pie,  why,  it 's  of  my  own  bakin' ! " 

I  reflected  a  few  minutes  and  found  that  Bob  was  right. 
Of  all  men  whom  I  knew,  and  who  were  likely  to  aid  me, 
I  had  the  greatest  respect  for  Mr.  Clarendon,  and  could 
approach  him  with  the  least  humiliation.  I  decided  to  make 
the  attempt,  and  told  Bob  so. 

"  That 's  right,"  said  he.  "  And  I  tell  you  what,  —  it  'a 
the  rule  o'  life  that  you  don't  git  good-luck  in  one  way 
without  payin'  for  it  in  another.  I  've  found  that  out,  to 
my  cost  And  the  Bible  is  right,  that  the  straight  road  and 
the  narrow  one  is  the  best,  though  it 's  hard  to  the  feet. 
The  narrower  the  road,  the  less  a  man  staggers  in  it.  You 
seem,  oftentimes,  to  be  doin'  your  duty  for  nothin',  —  worse 
than  that,  gettin'  knocks  for  doin'  it,  —  but  it 's  my  belief 
that  you  '11  find  out  the  meanin',  if  you  wait  long  enough. 
There  's  that  girl  down  in  Upper  Samaria,  —  you  must  ha' 
been  awfully  cut  up  about  her,  and  no  wonder,  but  did  n't 
it  turn  out  best,  after  all  ?  " 

Bob's  simple  philosophy  was  amply  adequate  to  my 
needs.  Without  understanding  my  more  complex  experi- 
ence of  life,  he  offered  me  a  sufficient  basis  to  stand  upon. 
Perhaps  the  thought  passed  through  my  mind  that  it  was 
easy  for  his  coarse,  unimpressionable  nature  to  keep  the 


446  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES 

straight  path,  and  to  butt  aside,  with  one  sturdy  blow,  the 
open  front  of  passions  which  approached  me  by  a  thousand 
stealthy  avenues.  I  doubted  whether  keen  disappointment 
—  positive  suffering  —  empowered  him  to  speak  with  equal 
authority ;  but  these  surmises,  even  if  true,  could  not 
weaken  the  actual  truth  of  his  words.  His  natural,  un- 
conscious courage  shamed  out  of  sight  the  lofty  energy 
upon  which  I  had  prided  myself. 

I  was  surprised,  also,  at  the  practical  instinct  which  en- 
abled him  to  comprehend  circumstances  so  different  from 
his  own,  and  to  judge  of  men  from  what  I  revealed  of  their 
connection  with  my  history.  It  occurred  to  me  that  tha 
faculty  of  imagination,  unless  in  its  extreme  potency,  is  a 
hindrance  rather  than  an  aid  to  the  study  of  human  nature. 
I  felt  assured  that  Bob  would  have  correctly  read  the 
characters  of  every  one  of  my  associates  in  one  fourth  of 
the  time  which  I  had  required. 

It  was  arranged  that  I  should  make  my  call  upon  Mr. 
Clarendon  the  very  next  day.  Bob  offered  me  one  of  his 
shirts,  and  would  have  added  his  best  coat,  if  there  had 
been  any  possibility  of  adapting  its  large  outline  to  my 
slender  shoulders.  He  insisted  that,  whether  or  not  my 
application  were  successful,  I  should  share  his  room  until 
I  had  made  a  little  headway.  I  agreed,  because  I  saw  that 
a  refusal  would  have  pained  him. 

I  own  that  my  sensations  were  not  agreeable  as  I  rang 
the  bell  at  Mr.  Clarendon's  door.  It  was  necessary  to  hold 
down  my  pride  with  a  strong  hand,  —  a  species  of  self- 
control  to  which  I  had  not  latterly  been  accustomed.  When 
L  found  myself,  a  few  minutes  afterward,  face  to  face  with 
the  editor  in  his  library,  the  quiet  courtesy  of  his  greeting 
reassured  me.  It  was  not  so  difficult  to  make  the  plunge, 
as  I  did,  in  the  words,  somewhat  bitterly  uttered,  — 

"  Another  edition  of  the  prodigal  son,  Mr.  Clarendon." 

lie  smiled  with  a  frank  humor,  in  which  there  was  no 
trace  of  derision.  "  And  you  have  come  to  me  for  the 
fatted  calf,  I  suppose  ? "  he  said. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  447 

"  Oh,  a  very  lean  one  will  satisfy  me.  Or  a  chicken,  if 
there  is  no  calf  on  hand." 

u  You  must  have  been  feeding  on  husks  with  a  ven- 
geance, in  that  case,  Mr.  Godfrey.  If  I  ask  for  your  story 
believe  me  it  is  not  from  intrusive  curiosity." 

I  was  sure  of  that,  and  very  willingly  confessed  to  him 
all  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  know.  In  fact,  he 
seemed  to  know  it  in  advance,  and  his  face  expressed  neithei 
surprise  nor  condemnation.  His  eyes  seemed  rather  to 
ask  whether  I  was  strong  enough  to  keep  aloof  from  those 
excitements,  and  I  gratefully  responded  to  the  considerate, 
fatherly  interest  which  prompted  his  questions. 

The  result  of  our  interview  was  that  I  was  reinstated  in 
my  employment,  —  in  a  somewhat  lower  position  than  for- 
merly, it  is  true,  and  with  a  slightly  diminished  salary  ;  but 
it  was  more  than  I  had  any  reason  to  expect.  Mr.  Olaren 
don  made  his  kindness  complete  by  offering  me  a  loan  for 
my  immediate  necessities,  which  I  declined  in  a  burst  of 
self-denying  resolution.  I  was  sorry  for  it.  upon  reflecting, 
after  1  had  left  the  house,  that  Swansford  might  be  suffer- 
ing through  my  neglect,  and  my  acceptance  of  the  offer 
would  have  enabled  me  to  relieve  him. 

This  reflection  was  so  painful  that  I  determined  to  draw 
upon  Bob's  generosity  for  the  money,  and.  until  his  return, 
employed  myself  in  commencing  a  magazine  story,  of  a  much 
more  cheerful  and  healthy  tone  than  my  recent  productions. 
Bob  was  later  than  usual,  and  his  footstep,  as  he  ascended 
the  stairs,  was  so  slow  and  heavy  that  I  hardly  recognized 
it.  lie  came  bending  into  the  room  with  a  weight  on  his 
shoulders,  which  proved  to  be  —  the  trunk  I  had  left  be- 
hind me  at  Mrs.  l)e  1'eyster's! 

"  1  thought  you  might  want  it,  John,  so  I  jest  come  up 
by  way  o"  lileecker  Street,  and  fetched  it  along,"  said  he. 

"  But  how  did  she  happen  to  let  you  take  it  ?  Oh,  I  see, 
Bob,  you  have  paid  my  debt !  " 

"Yes;  it's  better  you'd  owe  it  to  me  than  to  her.  J 
know  you  '11  pay  me  back  ag'iu.  and  she  don't." 


448  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Bob's  view  of  the  matter  was  so  simple  and  natural  that 
I  did  not  embarrass  him  with  my  thanks.  But  I  could  no' 
now  ask  for  a  further  loan,  and  poor  ISwansford  must  wait 
a  few  days  longer. 

While  Bob  was  smoking  his  evening  pipe,  I  told  him  of 
the  fortunate  result  of  my  visit  to  Mr.  Clarendon. 

"  I  knowed  it,"  was  his  quiet  comment.  "  Now  we  '11 
lake  a  fresh  start,  John,  —  your  head  aginst  my  hands. 
One  heat  don't  win,  you  know ;  it 's  the  best  two  out  o' 
three." 

"  Then,  Bob !  "  I  exclaimed,  in  a  sudden  effusion  of  pas- 
sion, —  "I 've  lost  where  I  most  wanted  to  win.  What 
are  head  and  hands  together  beside  the  heart !  Bob,  did 
you  ever  love  a  woman  ?  " 

"  I  'm  a  man,"  he  answered,  in  a  stern  voice.  After  a 
few  long  whiffs,  he  drew  his  shirt-sleeve  across  his  brow. 
I  am  not  sure  but  it  touched  his  eyes. 

"  John,"  he  began  again,  "  there  's  some  thin'  queer  about 
this  matter  o'  love.  I  Ve  thought,  sometimes,  that  the 
Devil  is  busy  to  keep  the  right  men  and  women  apart,  and 
bring  the  wrong  ones  together.  It  goes  with  the  rest  of  us 
as  it's  gone  with  you.  When  I  told  you  that  you  must 
grin  and  bear,  t  'other  night,  I  was  n't  preachin'  what  I 
don't  practise  myself.  There  was  a  little  girl  I  knowed, 
last  summer,  over  in  Jersey,  that  I  'd  ha'  given  my  right 
hand  for.  I  thought,  at  one  time,  she  liked  me,  but  jest 
when  my  hopes  was  best,  she  went  off  between  two 
days " 

"  What  ?  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Took  herself  away,  without  sayin'  good-bye  to  any- 
body. Ha'n't  been  heard  of  from  that  day  to  this.  Her 
aunt  bad  a  notion  that  she  must  ha'  gone  to  New  York,  and 
I  first  come  here,  as  much  as  for  anything  else,  hopin'  I 
might  git  on  the  track  of  her.  I  tell  you,  John,  many  's 
the  night  I  Ve  walked  the  streets,  lookin'  into  the  girls 
faces,  in  mortal  fear  o'  seem'  hers  among  'em.  It  may  n'l 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  449 

be  so  bad  as  that,  you  know,  but  a  fellow  can't  help  thinkin 
the  worst" 

I  was  thunderstruck  by  the  singular  fancy  which  forced 
itself  into  my  mind.  If  it  were  true,  should  I  mention  it . 
—  should  I  relieve  the  torture  of  doubt  only  by  the  worse 
torture  of  reality?  I  looked  at  Bob's  calm,  sad,  rugged 
face,  and  saw  there  the  marks  of  a  strength  which  1  might 
trust ;  but  it  was  with  a  hesitating,  trembling  voice  that  1 
said,  — 

"  Did  she  live  in  Hackettstown,  Bob  ?  " 

He  started,  turned  on  me  a  pair  of  intense,  shining  eyes, 
which  flashed  the  answer  to  my  question.  The  hungry  in- 
quiry of  his  face  forced  the  name  from  my  lips,  — 

"  Jane  Berry." 

k>  Where  is  she,  John  ?      What  is  she  ?  " 

The  questions  were  uttered  under  his  breath,  yet  they 
had  the  power  of  a  cry.  I  saw  the  task  I  had  brought  upon 
myself,  and  braced  my  heart  for  a  pain  almost  as  hard  to 
inflict  as  to  endure.  His  eyes,  fixed  upon  me,  read  the 
struggle,  and  interpreted  its  cause.  He  groaned,  and  laid 
his  head  upon  the  window-sill,  but  only  for  a  moment.  I 
could  guess  the  pang  that  rent  his  warm,  brave,  faithful 
heart,  and  the  tears  he  held  back  from  his  own  eyes  came 
into  mine. 

Then,  as  rapidly  as  possible,  —  for  I  saw  his  eagerness 
and  impatience,  —  I  told  him  how  and  where  I  had  first 
met  Jane  Berry,  repeated  to  him  her  confession  to  me,  ami 
explained  the  mystery  of  her  disappearance.  I  did  not 
even  conceal  that  passage  where  I  had  shamefully  put  oil 
the  character  of  helper  and  essayed  that  of  tempter,  be- 
cause there  might  be  a  sad  consolation  in  this  evidence  that 
her  virtue,  though  wrecked,  had  not  gone  down  forever 
Though  lost  to  him,  she  was  not  wholly  lost  to  herself. 

When  I  had  finished,  he  drew  a  long  breath  and  ex 
claimed,  in  a  low  voice,  "  Thank  God,  I  know  all  now 
Poor  foolish  girl,  she  's  paid  dear  enough  for  her  follj 


150  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

What  ought  to  be  done  is  past  my  knowledge,  savin'  this 
one  thing,  that  she  must  be  found,  —  must  be,  I  say,  and 
you  '11  help  me,  John  ?  " 

"  I  will,  Bob,  —  here  's  my  hand  on  it  Wt  '11  go  to 
Mary  Maloney  at  once." 

In  half  an  hour  we  were  in  Gooseberry  Alley.  It  was 
little  the  Irishwoman  could  tell,  but  that  little  was  encour- 
aging. She  had  seen  Jane  Berry  but  once  since  her  de- 
parture, and  that,  fortunately,  within  the  past  month.  Jane 
had  come  to  her  house, "  quite  brisk  and  chirrupin',"  she  said ; 
had  inquired  for  me.  and  seemed  very  much  disappointed 
that  Mary  was  ignorant  of  my  whereabouts ;  said  she  had 
been  successful  in  getting  work,  that  she  was  doing  very 
well,  and  would  never  forget  how  she  had  been  helped  ;  but 
did  not  give  her  address,  nor  say  when  she  would  return. 
Mary  confessed  that  she  had  not  pressed  her  to  repeat  her 
visit  soon ;  "  you  know  the  raison,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  she  re- 
marked. 

The  next  day,  I  went  with  Bob  to  the  Bowery  establish- 
ment where  I  had  first  procured  work  for  the  unfortunate 
girl  ;  but  neither  there,  nor  at  other  places  of  the  kind, 
could  we  gain  any  information.  Bob.  however,  at  my  re- 
quest, wrote  to  her  aunt  in  New  Jersey,  stating  that  he  had 
discovered  that  Jane  was  supporting  herself  by  her  trade, 
and  that  he  hoped  soon  to  find  her.  I  judged  this  step 
might  prepare  the  way  for  her  return  ;  it  was  the  only  man- 
ner in  which  we  could  help  her  now.  I  did  not  despair  of 
our  finding  her  hiding-place,  sooner  or  later.  In  fact,  I  ac- 
cepted the  task  as  an  imperative  duty,  for  7  had  driven  her 
away.  Bob,  also,  was  patient  and  hopeful ;  he  performed 
his  daily  labor  steadily,  and  never  uttered  a  word  of  com- 
plaint But  he  sighed  wearily,  and  muttered  in  his  sleep, 
so  long  as  I  shared  his  bed. 

Thanks  to  his  forethought,  I  put  on  the  feelings  with  the 
garments  of  respectability.  My  return  to  the  Wonder  of- 
fice was  hailed  with  delimit  by  the  honest  Lettsom,  and 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  45"i 

even  with  mild  pleasure  by  the  melancholy  Severn.  Mj 
mechanical  tasks  even  became  agreeable  by  contrast  witl. 
exhaustive  straining  after  effect,  or  the  production  of  those 
advertising  verses,  which  I  never  wrote  without  a  sense  oi 

O  ' 

degradation.  I  was  familiar  with  the  routine  of  my  duties. 
and  gave  from  the  start  —  as  I  had  resolved  to  give  —  sat- 
isfaction. Mr.  Clarendon,  it  appeared,  had  only  intended 
to  test  my  sincerity  in  his  new  offer  of  terms ;  for,  at  the 
close  of  the  week,  I  found  myself  established  on  the  old 
footing. 

No  sooner  was  the  money  in  my  pocket  than  I  hastened 
to  Mrs.  Very's,  palpitating  with  impatience  to  make  atone- 
ment to  Swansford.  The  servant-girl  who  answered  the 
door  informed  me,  not  only  that  he  was  in,  but  that  he 
never  went  out  now.  He  had  been  very  sick  ;  the  doctor 
would  n't  let  him  play  on  the  piano,  and  it  made  him  worse  ; 
so  now  he  was  at  it  from  morning  till  night. 

I  heard  the  faint  sounds  of  the  instrument  coming  down 
from  the  attic,  as  soon  as  I  had  entered  the  door.  The 
knowledge  of  him,  sick,  lonely,  and  probably  in  want  of 
money,  sent  a  sharp  pain  to  my  heart.  As  I  mounted  the 
last  flight  of  steps,  I  distinguished  his  voice,  apparent!} 
trying  passages  of  a  strange,  sad  melody,  repeating  them 
with  slight  variations,  and  accompanying  them  with  sus- 
taining chords  which  struck  my  ear  like  the  strokes  of  a 
muffled  bell. 

lie  was  so  absorbed  that  he  did  not  notice  my  entrance. 
When  I  called  out  his  name,  he  turned  his  head  and  looked 
at  me  with  a  feeble,  melancholy  smile,  without  ceasing  his 
performance.  I  laid  the  money  on  one  end  of  the  piano, 
and  described  my  conduct  in  harsh  terms,  and  begged  his 
forgiveness  ;  but  still  he  played  on,  smiling  and  nodding 
from  Lime  to  time,  as  if  to  assure  me  that  he  heard  and  for- 
gave, while  the  absorbed,  mysterious  gleam  deepened  in  his 
sunken  eyes.  I  began  to  doubt  whether  he  was  aware  of 
my  presence,  when  the  muffled  bells  tolling  under  his  fin 


452  JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

gers  seemed  to  recede  into  the  distance,  sinking  into  the 
mist  of  golden  hills,  farther  and  fainter,  until  they  died  in 
the  silence  of  the  falling  sky.  Then  he  turned  to  me  and 
spoke,  — 

"  Godfrey,  was  n't  it  Keats  who  said,  '  I  feel  the  daisies 
already  growing  over  me '  ?  You  heard  those  bells ;  they 
were  tolling  for  me,  or,  rather,  for  that  in  me  which  laments 
ihe  closing  of  a  useless  life,  a  thwarted  destiny.  What  is 
there  left  to  me  now  but  to  write  my  own  dirge  ?  And 
who  is  there  to  charge  me  with  presumption  if  I  flatter  my 
dreary  departure  from  life  by  assigning  to  myself  the  fame 
of  which  I  dreamed  ?  Fame  is  but  the  echo  of  achieve- 
ment, and  I  have  sung  into  the  empty  space  which  sends  no 
echo  back.  Listen  !  I  celebrate  myself —  I  give  the  '  meed 
of  one  melodious  tear '  to  my  own  grave  !  No  artist  ever 
passed  away  in  such  utter  poverty  as  that,  I  think." 

He  commenced  again,  and  after  an  introduction,  in  the 
fitful  breaks  and  dissonances  of  which  I  heard  the  brief  ex- 
pression of  his  life,  fell  into  a  sad,  simple  melody.  There 
were  several  stanzas,  but  I  only  remember  the  following :  — 

"  His  golden  harp  is  silent  now, 
And  dust  is  on  his  laurelled  brow: 
His  songs  are  hushed,  his  music  fled, 
And  amaranth  crowns  his  starry  head : 

Toll !  toll !  the  minstrel 's  dead !  "  * 

Twice  he  sang  the  dirge,  as  if  there  were  a  mad,  desper- 
ate enjoyment  in  the  idea  ;  then,  as  the  final  chords  flick- 
ered and  trembled  off  into  the  echoless  space,  his  hands 
slipped  from  the  keys,  and,  with  a  long  sigh,  his  head 
dropped  on  his  breast  I  caught  him  in  my  arms,  and  my 

*  In  searching  among  my  papers  for  some  relic  of  poor  Swansford,  1  cam« 
upon  a  crumpled  leaf,  upon  one  side  of  which  is  written,  — 

"  3  shirts  18 

5  handkerchiefs     10 
3  pr.  socks  9 

ITcto." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  458 

heart  stood  still  with  the  fear  that  his  excitement  had  made 
the  song  prophetic,  and  he  was  actually  dead.  I  laid  'him 
on  the  bed,  loosened  his  collar,  and  bathed  his  brow.  ar.d 
after  a  few  minutes  he  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Godfrey,"  he  said,  "  it  's  kind  of  you  to  come.  You  see 
there  is  n't  much  left  of  me.  You  and  I  expected  some- 
thing else  in  the  old  days,  but  —  any  change  carries  a  hope 
with  it." 

Regret  or  reproach  on  my  part  availed  nothing.  What 
was  still  possible,  I  resolved  to  do.  When  Swansford  had 
somewhat  recovered  his  strength,  I  left  him  and  sought 
Mrs.  Very.  That  estimable  and  highly  genteel  woman 
shed  tears  as  she  recounted  the  particulars  of  his  illness, 
and  hailed  as  a  godsend  my  proposal  to  return  to  my  old 
quarters  —  now  fortunately  vacant  —  in  her  house.  I  then 
hastened  to  Stanton  Street,  packed  my  trunk^  and  awaited 
Bob's  return.  He  had  not  a  word  to  say  against  my  plan, 
and,  moreover,  offered  his  own  help  if  it  should  be  neces- 
sary. 

Thus  I  found  myself  back  again  at  the  starting-point  of 
three  years  before  ;  but,  ah  me  !  —  the  sentimental,  eager. 
inexperienced  youth  of  that  period  seemed  to  be  no  relation 
of  mine. 

while  in  pencil,  on  the  opposite  side,  is  the  stanza  I  have  quoted,  with  the 
exception  of  the  refrain,  — 


dust     Is       on      his     Un  -  rolled  brow  :         His  songs   an  hashed,  his 
"•T*  *  -  -* 


ma    -    ste     fled,  And    amaranth  crowns  his    star   -   tf 


464  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

WHICH     BRINGS    THE    SYMPHONY   TO    AN    END,    BUT    LEAVK8 
ME    WITH    A    HOPE. 

MR.  CLARENDON  need  not  have  feared  that  I  might  re- 
lapse into  evil  habits  ;  every  hour  I  could  spare  from  my 
duties  was  devoted  to  the  service  of  my  dying  friend.  Since 
I  had  neglected  and  thoughtlessly  injured  him,  I  now  re- 
solved that  no  moment  of  his  brief  life  should  reproach  me 
after  its  close.  He  was  too  feeble  to  deny  me  this  satisfac- 
tion ;  and  I  saw,  with  a  mournful  pleasure,  that  no  other 
hand  was  so  welcome  as  mine,  no  other  voice  could  so 
quickly  bring  the  light  back  into  his  fading  eyes.  Bob  in- 
sisted on  relieving  me,  now  and  then,  of  my  nightly  watches, 
and  I  was  surprised,  not  only  at  the  gentleness  and  tender- 
ness of  his  ministrations,  but  at  Swansford's  grateful  ac- 
ceptance of  them.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  the  latter  had 
sent  his  Art  in  advance,  into  the  coming  life,  and  was  con- 
tent with  human  kindness  and  sympathy  for  the  few  days 
of  this  which  remained. 

The  seeds  of  his  disease  were  no  doubt  born  with  him, 
and  their  roots  had  become  so  intertwined  with  those  of  his 
life  that  only  a  professional  eye  could  distinguish  between 
the  two.  The  impression  left  by  my  first  visit  was  that  he 
could  not  live  twenty-four  hours,  but  weeks  had  come  and 
gone,  and  his  condition  fluctuated  between  the  prospect 
of  speedy  death  and  the  delusive  hope  of  final  recovery. 
There  were  times,  even,  when  himself  was  deceived  and 
would  talk  cheerily  of  the  future.  Neither  of  us  knew  how 
contradictory  were  these  appearances,  and  that  they  should 
have  prepared  us  for  the  opposite  results. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  455 

One  evening  in  the  beginning  of  May,  when  Swunsford's 
weakness  and  depression  had  reached  a  point  whence  it 
seemed  impossible  for  him  to  nlly,  he  beckoned  me  to  his 
bedside.  His  voice  was  so  faint  that  the  words  died  away 
in  whispers,  but  his  face  was  troubled,  and  I  saw  from  the 
expression  of  his  eyes  that  he  had  a  communication  to  make 
I  therefore  administered  a  stimulating  potion,  and  begged 
him  to  remain  quiet  until  he  felt  its  effects.  Presently  he 
was  able  to  point  to  the  upper  drawer  of  his  bureau,  and 
ask  me  to  bring  him  a  package  I  should  find  in  the  right- 
hand  corner.  It  was  a  heavy  roll  of  paper,  carefully  tied 
and  sealed.  I  laid  it  beside  him  on  the  bed,  and  he  felt 
and  fondled  it  with  his  white,  wasted  fingers. 

"  Here  it  is,  Godfrey,"  he  whispered,  at  last.  "  My  sym- 
phony !  I  meant  to  have  held  it  in  my  arms,  in  my  coffin, 
and  let  it  go  to  dust  with  the  heart  and  the  brain  which 
created  it ;  but  now  it  seems  that  my  life  is  there,  not  here, 
in  my  body.  I  might  be  killing  something,  you  see,  that 
had  a  right  to  live.  God  knows  :  but  there  is  another  rea- 
son. It  belongs  to  her,  Godfrey.  Every  i»ote  is  part  of  a 
history  which  she  alone  can  understand.  Let  her  read  it. 
I  honor  her  too  much  to  speak  or  write  to  her  while  I  live, 
but  there  is  no  infidelity  in  her  listening  to  the  voice  of  the 
dead.  Keep  it  until  you  have  buried  me  :  then  give  it  into 
her  hands." 

•"  You  have  my  sacred  word,  Swansford,"  I  said  ;  "  but 
you  must  tell  me  who  she  is  —  where  I  shall  find  her." 
"  It  is  written  there,  I  think.     But  you  know  her." 
I  feared  his  mind  was  wandering.     Taking  the  package 
I  held  it  to  the  light,  and,  after  some  search,  discovered, 
feebly  written  in  pencil,  the  words  :  ••  M  rs.  Fanny  Deering, 
from  C.  S."     Of  all  the  surprises  of  my  Ufe,  this  seemed  the 
greatest. 

u  Swansford  ! "  I  cried,  —  "  is  it  really  she  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Godfrey  ;  don't  ask  me  anything  more  ! " 

He  closed  his  eyes,  as  if  to  enforce  silence.     After  * 


456  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

while  he  seemed  to  sleep,  and  I  leaned  back  in  the  rock 
ing-chair  which  Mrs.  Very  had  kindly  provided  for  thf 
watchers,  busying  my  brain  with  speculations.  I  felt,  more 
deeply  than  ever,  the  tragic  close  of  Swansford's  disap- 
pointed existence.  She  whom  he  had  loved  —  whom  he 
still  loved  with  the  despairing  strength  of  a  broken  heart 
—  who,  I  was  sure,  might  silence,  but  could  not  forget  the 
early  memories  which  linked  her  to  him  —  was  here,  within 
an  hour's  call  of  the  garret  where  he  lay  dying.  He  was 
already  within  the  sanctifying  shadow  of  the  grave,  and  the 
word,  the  look  of  tender  recognition  which  she  might  anti- 
cipate beyond,  could,  in  all  honor  and  purity,  be  granted  to 
him  now.  I  would  go  to  her  —  would  beg  her  to  see  him 
once  more  —  to  give  one  permitted  consecration  of  joy  to 
his  sad  remnant  of  life.  I  knew  that  he  did  not  dream  of 
such  an  interview,  —  probably  did  not  desire  it,  —  and 
therefore  it  was  best  to  keep  my  design  secret. 

In  the  morning  Swansford  had  rallied  a  little,  but  it  was 
evident  that  his  life  barely  hung  by  a  thread.  I  trembled 
with  anxiety  during  the  day,  as  I  performed  those  mechan- 
ical tasks  which  were  now  more  than  ever  necessary,  for 
his  sake,  and  hastened  rapidly  back  at  evening,  to  find  him 
still  alive,  and  in  Bob's  faithful  charge.  Then  I  set  out, 
at  once,  for  Mr.  Deering's  residence,  in  Fourteenth  Street. 

As  I  approached  the  house,  my  step  slackened  and  I  fell 
to  meditating,  not  only  on  my  errand,  which  I  felt  to  be  a 
matter  of  some  delicacy,  but  on  Mrs.  Deering's  apparent 
intimacy  with  Isabel  Haworth.  It  will  be  remembered 
that  I  had  not  seen  the  former  since  the  night  of  my  mys  • 
terious  repulse.  I  should  no  doubt  have  gone  to  her,  as 
soon  as  Custom  permitted,  but  for  my  ruinous  and  reckless 
course  of  life  :  she  might  possess  the  key  to  the  treatment 
I  had  received,  or,  if  not,  could  procure  it.  There  was  the 
hope  of  final  knowledge  in  the  present  renewal  of  my  ac- 
quaintance, and  thus  my  own  happiness  suggested  it,  no 
'ess  than  my  friend's. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  457 

I  was  hut  A  few  paces  from  the  house  when  the  door 
opened  and  a  gentleman  came  out.  I  recognized  Penrose 
at  the  first  glance,  and  I  saw  that  he  also  recognized  me, 
before  he  reached  the  bottom  of  the  steps.  His  appear- 
ance in  the  house  of  Isabel  Haworth's  friend  started  a  thou- 
sand fierce  suspicions  in  my  breast  He  had  won,  —  he 
was  the  fortunate  suitor  —  possibly  the  calumniator  to  whom 
I  owed  my  disgrace  !  I  stopped  and  would  have  turned, 
but  he  was  already  upon  me. 

"  Cousin  John,"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  tone  in  his  voice 
which  forced  me  to  stand  still  and  listen,  though  I  could 
not  take  his  offered  hand,  "  where  have  you  been  ?  I  tried 
to  find  you,  at  the  old  place,  but  your  landlady  almost  turned 
me  out  of  doors  for  asking.  I  thought  you  had  anticipated 
me  in  clearing  the  field.  Come,  don't  glower  at  me  in  that 
way,  man  !  we  can  shake  hands  again." 

He  took  mine  by  force. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  That  we  are  both  floored.  Floyd  told  me  you  had  re- 
ceived your  walking-papers  long  ago,  and  so  I  pushed  on 
—  to  get  mine.  You  were  right,  John  ;  I  did  leave  her  out 
of  the  account,  in  my  calculations.  But  I  never  saw  all 
that  I  had  lost  until  the  moment  of  losing  it.  There,  that 's 
enough  ;  we  need  n't  mention  her  any  more.  I  '11  write  to 
Matilda  to-morrow  to  find  a  brace  of  elegantly  finished 
machines,  with  the  hinges  of  their  tongues,  knees,  and 
ankles  well  oiled,  —  warranted  to  talk,  dance,  sit  in  a  car- 
riage, lounge  at  the  opera,  and  do  all  other  things  which 
patent  ladies  may  of  right  do.  You  shall  have  one,  and 
I'll  take  the  other." 

He  laughed  —  a  low,  bitter  laugh  of  disappointment 

"  Alexander,"  I  said,  "  I  did  not  know  of  this  before.  I 
neld  back  my  hand  because  I  feared  that  you  were  my 
fortunate  rival.  Now  I  give  it  to  you,  with  my  heart,  if 
you  will  take  it  after  I  have  said  one  more  word.  I  have 
act  ceased,  and  will  not  cense  to  love  Isabel  Haworth. 


458  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Something  has  come  between  us  which  I  cannot  yet  under- 
stand, but,  with  God's  help,  I  will  remove  it,  and  it  may  be 

—  I  scarcely  hope,  Alexander,  but  it  may  be  —  that  her 
heart   shall    answer   to   mine.      Now,   will   you   take    my 
hand  ? " 

He  looked  at  me,  a  moment,  in  silence.  Then  I  felt  my 
hand  locked  in  a  firm  grasp,  which  drew  me  nearer,  until 
our  faces  almost  touched.  His  eyes  read  mine,  and  his  lip 
trembled  as  he  spoke,  — 

"  God  bless  you,  John  !  I  was  right  to  fear  you,  but  it  is 
too  late  to  fear  you  now,  and  needless  to  hate  you.  I  can't 
wish  you  success,  —  that  would  be  more  than  human.  But 
since  she  is  lost  to  me  there  is  less  pain  in  the  knowledge 
that  you  should  win  her  than  another.  If  it  comes  I  shall 
not  see  it.  I  am  going  away,  and  it  will  be  some  comfort 
to  think  of  you  still  as  my  friend." 

"  Going  away  ?  "  I  repeated  ;  "  you  will  leave  New  York 

—  give  up  your  business  ?  " 

"  No ;  my  excuse  is  also  my  necessity.  Dunn  and  Deer- 
ing  have  had  an  agency  in  San  Francisco  for  two  years 
past,  and  it  is  now  to  be  made  a  branch,  under  my  charge. 
The  matter  was  talked  of  before,  and  I  should  probably 
have  been  there  already,  but  for  —  well,  for  her.  We 
understand  each  other  now,  and  nothing  more  need  be 
said.  Try  to  think  kindly  of  me,  John,  though  you  may 
not  like  the  selfish  and  arbitrary  streak  I  have  inherited 
from  my  father ;  let  the  natures  of  our  mothers,  only, 
speak  to  each  other  in  us ! " 

I  had  kept  his  hand  in  mine  while  Ke  spoke.  Little  by 
little  I  was  growing  to  understand  his  powerful,  manly 
nature,  mixed  of  such  conflicting  elements,  and,  in  that 
comprehension,  to  feel  how  powerless  were  his  coveted 
advantages  of  beauty,  energy,  and  fortune,  in  the  struggle 
for  happiness.  Again  I  turned  to  my  own  past  history 
with  shame.  The  three  men  nearest  to  me  —  Penrose. 
Swansford,  and  Bob  Simmons  —  were  equally  unfortunate 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  45< 

y«t  each  courageously  met  his  destiny,  while  I  alone  had 
acted  the  part  of  a  coward  and  a  fool.  I  saw  how  shallow 
had  been  my  judgment,  how  unjust  my  suspicions,  and  the 
old,  boyish  affection  for  my  cousin  came  back  to  my  heart. 

"  Alexander,"  I  said,  "  I  will  remember  you  as  a  brother. 
If  I  ever  thought  unkindly  of  you,  it  was  because  I  did 
not  know  you  truly.  God  bless  and  keep  you  !  " 

He  was  gone,  and  I  stood  at  the  door.  Our  meeting 
had  given  me  strength  and  courage,  and  I  sought  at  once 
an  interview  with  Mrs.  Deering. 

She  entered  the  room  with  a  colder  and  statelier  air 
than  1  had  before  noticed  in  her.  I  felt,  however,  only  the 
solemn  importance  of  my  errand,  and  the  necessity  of  com- 
municating it  without  delay.  I  therefore  disregarded  her 
somewhat  formal  gesture,  inviting  me  to  be  seated,  stepped 
nearer  to  her,  and  said, — 

"  Mrs.  Deering,  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  commit  an  indis- 
cretion in  what  I  have  to  say.  It  concerns  a  very  dear 
friend  of  mine  who  was  once  a  friend  of  yours,  —  Charles 
Swansford !  " 

She  started  slightly,  and  seemed  about  to  speak,  but  1 
went  on. 

"  He  is  lying  on  his  death-bed,  Mrs.  Deering.  He  may 
have  but  a  day  —  nay,  perhaps  only  an  hour  —  to  live.  He 
placed  in  my  charge  a  musical  work  of  his  own  composi- 
tion, to  be  delivered  to  you  after  his  death ;  but  I  have 
come  now,  unknown  to  him,  to  tell  you  that  I  believe  no 
greater  blessing  could  be  granted  to  his  last  moments  than 
the  sight  of  your  face  and  the  sound  of  your  voice.  I  need 
not  say  anything  more  than  this.  If  your  heart  inclines 
you  to  fulfil  my  wish,  —  mine,  remember,  not  his,  —  I  am 
ready  to  conduct  you.  If  not,  he  will  never  know  that  I 
have  spoken  it." 

Her  cold  dignity  was  gone;  pale  and  trembling,  she 
leaned  upon  the  back  of  a  chair.  Her  voice  was  faint 
and  broken.  "  You  know  what  he  is  —  was  —  to  me  ?  * 
the  said. 


460  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

"  I  knew  it  last  night  for  the  first  time,  and  then  onlj 
because  he  thought  he  was  dying.  I  come  to  you  at  the 
command  of  my  own  conscience,  and  the  rest  must  be  lefl 
to  yours." 

"  I  will  go  !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  it  cannot  be  wrong  now. 
God,  who  sees  my  soul,  knows  that  I  mean  no  wrong ! " 

"  No,  Mrs.  Deering ;  since  you  have  so  decided,  let  me 
say  to  you  that  my  poor  friend's  life  of  suffering  and 
despair  would  have  been  ignobly  borne  for  your  sake,  had 
you  refused  this  last,  pious  act  of  consolation." 

She  grasped  my  hand  in  hers,  crying,  through  her  start- 
ing tears,  —  "  Thank  you,  Mr.  Godfrey  !  You  have  acted 
as  a  true  friend  to  him  and  me.  Let  us  go  at  once  !  " 

Her  carriage  was  ordered,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
we  were  on  the  way  to  Hester  Street  She  leaned  back  in 
the  corner,  silent,  with  clasped  hands,  during  the  ride,  and 
when  we  reached  the  door  was  so  overcome  by  her  agita- 
tion that  I  was  almost  obliged  to  lift  her  from  the  carriage. 
I  conducted  her  first  to  my  own  room,  and  then  entered 
Swansford's,  to  prepare  him  for  the  interview. 

He  had  been  sleeping,  and  awoke  refreshed ;  his  voice 
was  weak,  but  clear,  and  his  depressed,  unhappy  mood 
seemed  to  be  passing  away.  I  sat  down  beside  him  on  the 
bed,  and  took  his  hand  in  mine. 

"  Swansford,"  I  said,  "  if  you  could  have  one  wish  ful- 
filled now,  what  would  it  be  ?  If,  of  all  persons  you  have 
ever  known,  one  might  come  to  visit  you,  whom  would  you 
name  ?  " 

A  bright,  wistful  gleam  flitted  over  his  face  a  moment 
and  then  died  out  "  No  one,"  he  sighed. 

"  But  there  is  some  one,  Swansford,  —  one  who  waits 
your  permission  to  come  to  you.  Will  you  adm'  t  her  ?  " 

"Her?" 

His  voice  was  like  a  cry,  and  such  a  wild,  eager,  wonder- 
ing expression  flashed  into  his  features  that  I  beckoned  tc 
Bob  and  we  stole  out  of  the  room.  Then  I  opened  the 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  461 

door  for  Mrs.  Deering,  and  closed  it  softly  behind  her 
leaving  them  alone. 

Do  you  ask  what  sacred  phrases  of  tenderness,  what  con- 
fession of  feelings  long  withheld,  what  reciprocal  repent- 
ance and  forgiveness,  were  crowded  into  that  interview? 
I  would  not  reveal  them  if  I  knew.  There  are  some 
experiences  of  human  hearts,  in  which  God  claims  the 
exclusive  right  of  possession,  and  I  will  not  profanely  ven- 
ture into  their  sanctities. 

Bob  and  I  sat  together  in  my  room,  talking  in  low  tones, 
until  more  than  an  hour  had  passed.  Then  we  heard  the 
door  of  Swansford's  room  move,  and  I  stepped  forward  to 
support  Mrs.  Deering's  tottering  steps.  I  placed  her  in 
a  chair,  and  hastened  to  ascertain  Swansford's  condition 
before  accompanying  her  to  her  home.  His  wasted  face 
reposed  upon  the  pillow  in  utter,  blissful  exhaustion  ;  his 
eyes  were  closed,  but  tears  had  stolen  from  under  the  lids 
and  sparkled  on  his  white  cheeks. 

"  Swansford,"  I  said,  kneeling  beside  him,  "  do  you  for 
give  me  for  what  I  have  done  ?  " 

He  smiled  with  ineffable  sweetness,  gently  drew  my  head 
nearer,  and  kissed  me. 

When  I  left  Mrs.  Deering  at  her  door,  she  said  to  me,  — 
"  I  must  ask  your  forgiveness,  Mr.  Godfrey  :  I  fear  I  have 
done  you  injustice  in  my  thoughts.  If  it  is  so,  and  the 
fancies  I  have  had  are  not  idle,  I  will  try  to  save  you 
from  "  — 

She  paused.  Her  words  were  incomprehensible,  but 
when  I  would  have  begged  an  explanation,  she  read  the 
question  in  my  face  before  it  was  uttered,  and  hastily  ex- 
claimed, as  she  gave  me  her  hand,  —  "  No,  no  ;  not  to-night 
Leave  me  now,  if  you  please ;  but  I  shall  expect  to  see 
you  every  day  while  —  he  lives." 

As  I  walked  homewards,  pondering  on  the  event  of  the 
evening,  it  was  easy  to  perceive  a  connection  between  the 
formal  air  with  which  Mrs.  Deering  had  received  me  and 


462  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

her  parting  words.  I  surmised  that  she  had  heard  some- 
thing to  my  disadvantage,  either  from  Miss  Haworth,  OT 
from  the  same  source  as  the  latter,  and  thus  the  clue  I 
sought  seemed  about  to  be  placed  in  my  hand.  I  should 
no  longer  be  the  victim  of  a  mysterious,  intangible  hostility, 
but,  knowing  its  form,  could  arm  myself  to  overcome  it. 
Hope  stole  back  into  my  heart,  and  set  the  suppressed 
pulses  of  love  to  beating. 

From  the  close  of  that  interview  Swansford's  condition 
seemed  to  be  entirely  changed.  The  last  drop  of  bitterness 
was  washed  out  of  his  nature ;  he  was  calm,  resigned,  and 

7  O  ' 

happy.  He  allowed  me  to  send  a  message  to  his  mother 
and  sisters,  which  he  had  previously  refused,  and  lingered 
long  enough  to  see  them  at  his  bedside.  He  had  insisted 
on  being  laid  in  an  unmarked  grave,  among  the  city's  poor, 
but  now  he  consented  that  his  body  should  be  taken  to  his 
Connecticut  home  and  placed  beside  its  kindred.  The 
las^  few  days  of  his  life  were  wholly  peaceful  and  serene. 
"  He  's  an  angel  a'ready, "  Bob  said,  and  so  we  all  felt. 
The  decay  of  his  strength  became  so  regular  towards  the 
close  that  the  physician  was  able  to  predict  the  hour  when 
it  would  cease.  We,  who  knew  it,  were  gathered  together, 
around  the  unconscious  sufferer,  who  had  asked  to  be  raised 
and  supported,  in  almost  a  sitting  posture.  His  eyes  wan- 
dered from  one  face  to  another,  with  a  look  too  far  removed 
from  earth  to  express  degrees  of  affection.  All  at  once 
his  lips  moved,  and  he  began  to  sing :  — 

"  His  songs  are  hushed,  his  music  fled, 
And  amaranth  crowns " 

There  his  voice  stopped,  and  his  heart  stopped  with  it. 

T  went  to  Connecticut  with  his  family,  and  saw  ihe  last 
rites  performed  in  the  green  little  church-yard  among  the 
hills.  Then  I  left  his  cheated  hopes,  his  thwarted  ambition, 
his  shattered  life  to  moulder  there,  believing  that  Divine 
Mercy  had  prepared  a  compensation  for  him  in  the  eterna. 
spheres. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  4R3 

Mrs.  Deering's  explanation,  delayed  by  my  constant  at- 
tendance during  the  last  days,  and  the  solemn  duties  which 
followed,  came  at  last ;  but  it  was  not  so  satisfactory  as  1 
had  hoped.  All  that  I  could  clearly  ascertain  was  that 
Miss  Haworth  had  heard  something  —  knew,  indeed,  the 
latter  had  declared  to  Mrs.  Deering  —  to  my  prejudice, 
and  had  prohibited  all  mention  of  my  name.  Mrs.  Deer- 
ing  naturally  trusted  to  her  friend's  judgment,  and  my 
absence  from  a  house  where  I  had  been  so  cordially  re- 
ceived, confirmed  her  in  the  belief  that  her  own  vague 
suspicions  must  have  a  basis  in  reality.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary, she  said,  to  mention  them ;  she  had  heard  nothing, 
knew  nothing,  except  that  Miss  Haworth  considered  me 
unworthy  of  her  acquaintance.  She  was  now  convinced 
that  there  was  a  mistake  somewhere,  and  it  should  be  her 
duty  to  assist  in  clearing  up  the  mystery. 

Mrs.  Deering  also  informed  me  of  another  circumstance 
which  had  occurred  some  weeks  before.  Miss  Haworth  had 
left  her  step-father's  house  very  suddenly,  and  gone  alone 
to  Boston,  where  she  had  relatives.  It  was  rumored  — 
but  on  what  grounds  nobody  knew  —  that  when  she  re- 
turned, it  would  not  be  to  Gramercy  Park.  There  must 
have  been  some  disturbance,  for  she,  Mrs.  Deering,  her 
most  intimate  friend,  would  otherwise  have  heard  from  her 
She  was  on  the  point  of  writing,  to  inquire  into  the  truth 
of  the  rumor,  when  my  visit,  and  the  excitement  and  pre- 
occupation of  her  mind  with  Swansford's  fate,  had  driven 
the  subject  from  her  thoughts.  Now,  however,  she  would 
lose  no  time.  If  the  story  were  true,  she  would  offer  Miss 
Haworth  a  temporary  home  in  her  own  house. 

During  these  conversations,  it  was  natural  that  my  ex- 
treme anxiety  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  my  presumed 
offence,  and  to  be  replaced,  if  possible,  in  Miss  Haworth's 
good  opinion,  should  betray  its  true  cause.  I  knew  that 
Mrs.  Deering  read  my  heart  correctly,  and  added  her  hopes 
to  mine,  although  the  subject  was  not  openly  mentioned 


*64  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

between  us.  She  was  never  weary  of  recounting  the  nobla 
womanly  virtues  of  her  friend,  nor  was  I  ever  weary  of 
listening.  The  two  women  had  been  educated  in  the  same 
school,  and  were  familiar  with  the  circumstances  of  each 
other's  lives.  I  thus  made  good  progress  in  the  knowledge 
of  my  beloved,  even  though  she  was  absent  and  estranged. 
While  Mrs.  Deering  was  waiting  for  an  answer  from 
Boston,  Penrose  sailed  for  California.  The  evening  before 
his  departure  we  spent  together.  Upon  one  subject  there 
was  a  tacit  understanding  of  silence,  but  on  all  others  we 
were  free  and  candid  as  brothers.  With  him  went  a  portion 
of  my  life  which  I  resolved  must  be  renewed  in  the  future. 
but  when  or  how  was  as  indefinite  as  the  further  course  of 
my  own  fortunes. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  465 


CHAPTER  XXXVIL 

WHICH   BRINGS   MY   FORTUNE   AT   LAST. 

THROUGH  all  the  period  of  agitation  which  I  have  just 
described  I  adhered  faithfully  to  my  work,  and  in  spite  of 
the  demands  upon  my  purse  for  poor  Swansford's  necessi- 
sities  (and  they  were  gladly  answered),  I  slowly  recovered 
my  lost  position  of  independence.  Bob's  generous  loan 
was  returned,  I  was  free  of  other  debt,  and  possessed  once 
more  an  assured  and  sufficient  income.  Those  months  of 
vagabondage  seemed  like  a  dark,  uneasy  dream,  in  the 
steady  light  of  resolution  which  now  filled  my  life  ;  it  was 
as  if  a  sultry  haze  in  which  the  forms  of  Good  and  Evil 
were  blended,  and  the  paths  of  order  and  of  license  be- 
come an  inextricable  labyrinth,  had  been  blown  away,  leav- 
ing the  landscape  clearer  than  ever  before.  I  will  not  say 
that  all  temptations  died,  or  no  longer  possessed  a  formi- 
dable power ;  but  I  was  able  to  recognize  them  under  what- 
ever mask  they  approached,  and  patient  to  wait  for  the  day 
when  each  conditional  sin  of  the  senses  should  resolve  it- 
self into  a  permitted  bounty. 

On  one  subject  alone  I  was  not  patient,  and  my  disap- 
pointment was  extreme  when  Mrs.  Deering  informed  me 
that  she  had  received  a  letter  from  Boston  stating  only 
that  the  rumor  was  true,  —  Miss  Haworth  would  not  return 
to  her  step-father's  house  in  Gramercy  Park.  She  would 
accept  her  friend's  invitation  when  she  came  back  to  New 
York,  —  probably  in  a  fortnight,  or  thereabouts.  There 
was  a  hint,  it  was  true,  of  further  confidences,  when  they 
should  meet  I  begged  Mrs.  Deering  to  write  again,  and 
M 


466  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES 

ask,  at  least,  an  explanation  of  the  mystery  in  which  I  was 
concerned.  It  was  her  right,  I  insisted,  since  she  now  per- 
mitted me  to  call  myself  her  friend. 

Four  days  afterwards,  on  returning  t6  my  lodgings  late 
at  night,  after  the  completion  of  my  editorial  labors,  I  found 
a  small  note  upon  my  table.  It  was  addressed  in  a  woman's 
hand,  which  struck  my  eye  as  familiar,  although  it  was  not 
Mrs.  Deering's,  and  I  had  long  since  ceased  to  receive 
notes  from  any  other  lady,  —  even  from  Adeliza  Choate.  I 
opened  it  carelessly  and  read  :  — 

"  I  have  judged  you  unjustly,  and  treated  you  rudely, 
Mr.  Godfrey.  If  I  have  not  forfeited  the  right  to  make 
reparation,  or  you  have  not  lost  the  desire  to  receive  it, 
will  you  call  upon  me  to-morrow  evening,  at  Mrs.  Deer- 
ing's,  and  oblige 

ISABEL  HAWORTH." 

I  am  not  certain  what  I  did  during  the  next  ten  minutes 
after  reading  this  note  ;  but  I  have  a  dim  recollection  of 
sinking  on  my  knees  at  the  bedside,  and  bowing  my  head 
on  the  coverlet,  as  my  mother  had  taught  me  to  do  when  a 
little  boy.  The  work  for  which  I  had  been  trying  to  arm 
myself  was  already  done.  It  mattered  not  now  who  was 
the  enemy,  nor  what  the  weapon  he  had  used  against  me ; 
she  confessed  her  injustice,  —  confessed  it  fully,  directly, 
and  honorably,  as  became  her  nature.  The  only  prayer  to 
which  I  could  bend  my  mind,  before  yielding  to  sleep  that 
right,  was,  "  God,  give  me  Isabel  Haworth ! " 

The  next  morning  I  wrote  the  single  line,  — 

"  I  will  come. 

JOHN  GODFREY,"  — 

and  carried  it  to  Fourteenth  Street  myself,  unwilling  to 
trust  the  fate  of  the  message  to  other  hands.  That  day 
was  the  longest  of  my  life.  It  was  hard  to  force  my  mind 
into  its  habitual  harness,  and  go  over  the  details  of  a  new 
•ugar-refinery  which  was  to  be  described  for  the  morrow'a 


JV.BX  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  467 

paper,  when  my  imagination  was  busy  with  the  rippled  hail 
and  the  soft  violet  eyes  I  had  so  long  missed. 

Let  me  overlook  the  memory  of  that  gnawing  impatience 
and  hasten  forward  to  the  evening.  At"  the  earliest  mo- 
ment permitted  by  the  habits  of  society,  I  presented  myself 
at  Mrs.  Deering's  door,  and  sent  my  name  to  Miss  Haworth. 
T  had  not  long  to  wait ;  she  came  into  the  room  taller,  it 
Aeemed  to  me,  and  more  imposing  in  her  presence,  —  but 
it  was  only  the  queenly  air  of  right  and  justice  which  en- 
veloped her.  The  sweet,  frank  face  was  pale,  but  firm, 
and  the  eyes  did  not  droop  or  waver  an  instant,  as  they  met 
my  gaze.  I  forgot  everything  but  the  joy  of  seeing  her 
again,  of  being  restored  to  her  society,  and  went  forward 
to  meet  her,  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  since  our  last 
parting. 

But  she  stopped  and  held  me,  by  some  subtle  influence, 
from  giving  her  the  hand  I  was  about  to  extend.  "  Wait, 
if  you  please,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  she  said.  "  Before  I  can  allow 
you  to  meet  me  as  a  friend,  —  even  if  you  are  generous 
enough  to  forgive,  unexplained,  the  indignity  with  which  1 
have  treated  you,  —  you  must  hear  how  far  I  have  suffered 
myself  to  be  misled  by  representations  and  appearances  to 
do  cruel  wrong  to  your  character  as  a  man." 

She  stood  so  firm  and  resolute  before  me,  bending  her 
womanly  pride  to  the  confession  of  injustice  with  a  will  so 
noble  that  my  heart  bowed  down  at  her  feet  and  did  her 
homage.  It  was  enough ;  I  would  spare  her  the  rest  of  her 
voluntary  reparation. 

"  Miss  Haworth,"  I  said,  "  let  it  end  here.  You  have  al- 
ready admitted  that  you  judged  me  wrongly,  and  I  ask  no 
more.  I  do  not  seek  to  know  what  were  your  reasons  for 
denying  me  the  privilege  of  your  —  acquaintance ;  it  is 
enough  to  know  that  they  are  now  removed." 

"  It  is  not  enough  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  claim  to  be  ac- 
countable for  every  act  of  my  life.  You  have  a  right  to 
demand  an  explanation  ;  you  irouJff  demand  it  from  a  gen- 


468  TOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

fleman,  and  I  am  not  willing  to  shelter  myself  under  thai 
considerate  sentiment  towards  our  sex  which  would  spare 
me  a  momentary  humiliation,  by  depriving  me  of  the  op- 
portunity of  satisfying  my  sense  of  justice.  Be  candid^  Mr. 
Godfrey,  and  confess  that  the  unexplained  wrong  would 
rest  uneasily  in  your  memory." 

Her  sense  of  truth  struck  deeper  than  my  instinct  of  the 
moment.  I  felt  that  she  was  right ;  it  was  better  that 
everything  should  be  told  now,  and  the  Past  made  clear, 
for  the  sake  of  the  Future. 

"  It  is  true,"  I  said.  "  I  am  ready  to  hear  all  that  you 
consider  necessary  to  be  told." 

She  paused  a  moment,  but  not  from  hesitation.  She 
was  only  .considering  how  to  begin.  When  she  spoke,  her 
voice  was  calm  and  steady,  and  I  felt  that  the  purpose 
which  prompted  her  was  but  the  natural  suggestion  of  her 
heart 

"  I  believe  that  one's  instincts  are  generally  true,  and 
therefore  I  presume  you  already  suspect  that  my  step- 
brother, Mr.  Tracy  Floyd,  is  no  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

I  bowed  in  assent. 

"  Although  I  had  no  reason  to  attach  much  weight  to 
Mr.  Floyd's  opinions,  I  will  admit  that  other  circumstances 
had  shaken  my  faith,  for  a  time,  in  the  sincerity  and  hon- 
esty of  men  ;  that  I  was  —  perhaps  morbidly  —  suspicious, 
and  hence  his  insinuations  in  regard  to  yourself,  though  not 
believed,  disposed  me  to  accept  other  causes  for  belief.  They 
•assumed  to  be  based  on  certain  circumstances  which  he 
had  discovered,  and,  therefore,  when  another  circumstance, 
seeming  to  confirm  them  most  positively,  came  under  my 
own  observation,  I  did  believe.  It  was  a  shallow,  hasty, 
false  judgment,  —  how  false,  I  only  discovered  a  few  weeks 
ago.  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  for  the  truth  bids  me  honor 
you  for  the  very  act  which  I  interpreted  to  your  shame." 

Her  words  were  brave  and  noble,  but  I  did  not  yet  under- 
stand their  application.  I  felt  my  cheeks  glow  and  mj 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  469 

heart  throb  with  happiness  at  hearing  my  own  praise  from 
her  lips.  She  paused  again,  but  I  would  not  interrupt  her 
confession. 

"  You  may  remember,"  she  continued,  "  having  called 
upon  me,  shortly  after  my  return  from  the  Northwest 
Mr.  Penrose  was  there  at  the  same  time,  and  you  left  the 
house  together.  My  step-brother  came  into  the  room  as 
you  were  taking  leave.  He  was  already  in  the  habit  of 
making  depreciative  remarks  when  your  name  happened 
to  be  mentioned;  but  on  that  evening  he  seemed  par- 
ticula'ly  exasperated  at  your  visit.  It  is  not  necessary  for 
me  to  repeat  all  that  he  said,  —  the  substance  of  it  was 
that  your  habits  of  life  rendered  you  unfit  for  the  society 
of  ladies,  —  that  he,  being,  by  the  relation  between  our 
parents,  permitted  to  look  upon  himself  as  my  protector, 
warned  me  that  any  appearance  of  friendship  towards  you, 
on  my  part,  would  occasion  me  embarrassment,  if  not  in- 
jury. I  could  not  reconcile  his  assertion  with  the  impres- 
sion of  your  character  which  I  had  derived  from  my  pre- 
vious acquaintance  with  you  ;  but,  as  I  said  before,  Mr. 
Godfrey,  1  had  had  unpleasant  experiences  of  human  self- 
ishness and  hypocrisy,  —  my  situation,  indeed,  seemed  to 
expose  me  to  such  experiences,  —  and  I  became  doubtful 
of  my  own  judgment.  Then  came  a  singular  chance,  —  in 
which,  wi  bout  my  will,  I  played  the  spy  upon  your  actions, 
and  saw,  as  I  supposed,  the  truth  of  all  Mr.  Floyd  had 
declared." 

My  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  face,  following  her  words 
with  breathless  interest.  Not  yet  could  I  imagine  the  act 
or  acts  to  which  she  referred.  I  saw,  however,  that  the 
coming  avowal  required  an  effort  of  courage,  and  felt, 
dimly,  Jiat  the  honor  and  purity  of  her  woman's  nature 
were  called  upon  to  meet  it 

"  You  have  saved  a  woman,"  she  said,  "  and  it  shoul3  not 
i*j  hard  for  me  jo  render  simple  justice  to  a  man.  I  pajsed 
Washington  Square  one  evening,  Mr  Godfrey,  when  you 


470  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

were  there  to  hear  the  story  of  an  unfortunate  girl  T  san 
you  endeavoring  to  help  and  console  her,  —  supporting  he» 
with  your  arm,  —  but  I  could  hear  neither  your  words  noi 
hers.  I  trusted  only  to  the  evidence  of  my  eyes,  and  they 
confirmed  all  that  I  had  heard  against  you." 

"  What ! "  I  exclaimed,  "  how  was  it  possible  ?  " 

"  I  was  in  my  carriage,  bound  on  an  errand  which  took 
me  to  the  corner  opposite  the  lamp  under  which  you  stood 
As  the  coachman  pulled  up  his  horses,  you  moved  away 
under  the  trees,  as  if  fearful  of  being  observed.  The 
duplicity  of  your  nature  (as  I  took  it  to  be)  seemed  to  me 
all  the  darker  and  more  repulsive  from  your  apparent  frank- 
ness and  honesty ;  I  was  tired  of  similar  discoveries,  and 
I  resolved,  from  that  moment  that  I  would  know  you  no 
longer.  It  is  my  habit  to  act  upon  impulse,  and  I  seized 
the  first  opportunity  which  occurred,  —  with  what  injustice, 
what  rudeness  I  did  not  suspect  until  I  learned  the  truth. 
I  have  tried  to  be  as  swift  to  atone  as  I  was  to  injure,  but 
you  were  not  to  be  found ;  I  knew  not  where  a  word  from 
me  might  reach  you  until  I  received  Mrs.  Deering's  last 
letter." 

"  Miss  Haworth ! "  I  cried,  "  say  no  more !  you  have 
acted  nobly,  —  generously.  I  never  accused  you  in  my 
heart,  —  never."  The  next  word  would  have  betrayed  my 
passion.  I  held  it  back  from  my  lips  with  a  mighty  effort, 
but  took  her  hand,  bent  my  head  over  it  and  kissed  it. 
When  I  looked  up  her  eyes  drooped,  and  the  clear  lines 
of  her  face  were  overspread  with  a  wonderful  softness  and 
sweetness. 

"  Tell  me  only,"  I  said,  "  how  you  learned  anything  more 
who  gave  you  an  account  of  my  interview  with  "  — 

I  paused  involuntarily.  Her  eyes  were  lifted  steadily  to 
mine,  and  she  completed  the  unfinished  sentence,  — 

"Jane  Berry.  From  whom  could  I  learn  her  story  but 
from  herself?  She  has  told  me  all.  It  was  she  who  went 
in  my  behalf  to  search  for  you." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  471 

It  was  my  turn  tj  drop  my  eyes.  Had  Jane  Berry  in 
deed  told  her  alii  No,  it  could  not  be;  for  in  that  case 
Miss  Ha\vorth  might  not  have  been  so  anxious  to  make 
reparation.  She  now  overvalued  as  much  as  she  had 
before  undervalued  my  nature.  What  I  seemed,  in  her 
pure,  just  eyes,  I  guessed  with  pain,  as  I  remembered  what 
I  had  been.  But  the  mystery  was  not  yet  entirely  clear  ; 
I  thrust  back  the  memory  of  my  shame,  and  questioned  her 
again,  — 

"  How  did  you  meet  Jane  Berry  ?  " 

To  my  surprise,  Miss  Haworth  seemed  embarrassed  what 
answer  to  give.  She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  a  light, 
rosy  flush  came  into  her  face.  Then  she  said,  — 

"  Is  it  not  enough,  Mr.  Godfrey,  that  I  have  met  her?  — 
that  I  am  trying  to  help  her,  as  my  duty  bids  me  ?  " 

In  what  followed,  I  obeyed  an  irresistible  impulse. 
Whence  it  came,  I  cannot  tell ;  I  was  hurried  along  by 
a  leap  of  the  heart,  so  rapid  that  there  was  no  time  left 
to  ask  whither  it  was  precipitating  me.  But  the  love 
nourished  so  long  and  sweetly,  assailed  by  rivalry,  sud- 
denly hurled  back,  half  held  in  check  by  the  efforts  of 
an  immature  will,  and  outraged  by  evil  courses,  now  reas- 
serted its  mastery  over  me,  filled  and  penetrated  my  being 
with  its  light  and  warmth,  shone  from  my  eyes,  and  trem- 
bled on  my  tongue.  I  was  powerless  to  stay  its  expression. 
All  thought  of  the  disparity  of  our  condition,  of  the  con- 
trast between  her  womanly  purity  and  nobility  and  my  un- 
worthiness  as  a  man,  vanished  from  my  mind.  I  only  felt 
that  we  stood  face  to  face,  heart  before  heart,  and  from  the 
overbrimming  fulness  of  mine,  I  cried,  — 

"  I  know  what  you  think,  Miss  Haworth,  —  how  kindly 
you  judge  me.  I  know,  still  better,  how  little  claim  I  have 
to  be  honored  in  your  thoughts,  and  yet  I  dare,  —  how  shalj 
I  say  it  ?  —  dare  to  place  myself  where  only  your  equal  in 
truth  and  in  goodness  ought  to  stand  !  I  should  give  you 
time  to  know  me  better  before  telling  you,  as  I  must,  that 


472  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

[  love  you,  —  love  you !  Not  first  now,  but  long  before 
I  seemed  to  have  lost  you,  and  ever  since,  in  spite  of  its 
hopelessness.  I  cannot  thank  you  without  betraying  what 
is  in  my  heart  I  did  not  think  to  say  this  to-night ;  I  came, 
too  happy  in  the  knowledge  that  you  called  me  back,  to 
dream  of  asking  more,  but  your  presence  brings  to  my 
lips  the  words  that  may  banish  me  forever.  I  ask  nothing ; 
love  cannot  be  begged.  I  have  no  reason  to  hope;  yet, 
Isabel  Haworth,  I  love  you,  and  believe  that  you  will  par- 
don if  you  cannot  bless  !  " 

A  silence  followed  my  words.  I  stood  with  bent  head, 
as  if  awaiting  a  blow,  while  the  gas-light  fluttered  and  hum- 
med in  the  chandelier  above  us.  Presently  a  soft  voice  — 
my  heart  stood  still,  listening  to  its  perfect  music  —  stolft 
upon  the  hush  of  the  room. 

"  I  knew  it  already." 

"  Then,"  —  but  I  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  Our  eyes 
met,  and  tremulous  stars  of  twilight  glimmered  through  the 
violet  of  hers.  Our  hands  met,  and  of  themselves  drew  us 
together ;  drunken  and  blinded  with  happiness,  I  felt  the 
sweetness  of  her  lips  yield  itself,  unshrinkingly,  to  mine 
Then  my  arms  folded  themselves  about  her  waist,  her  hands 
clasped  my  neck,  my  cheek  caressed  the  silken,  rippled 
gold  of  her  temples,  and  I  sighed,  from  the  depth  of  a 
grateful  soul,  —  "  Oh,  thank  God  !  thank  God  !  " 

She  felt  the  touch  of  the  tear  that  sparkled  on  her  hair. 
Once  more  I  pressed  my  lips  to  her  pure  brow,  and  whis- 
pered, —  "  Tell  me,  is  it  true,  Isabel  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  head  and  smiled,  as  we  tried  to  see  each 
other's  hearts  in  the  dim  mirror  of  either's  eyes. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  repeated,  "  but  I  also  knew  something 
more.  Oh,  ic  is  blessed  to  find  rest  at  last ! " 

Then  she  slipped  from  my  arms,  and  sank  into  a  chair, 
covering  her  face  with  her  hands.  I  knelt  down  beside 

o 

her,  caressing  her  lovely  head.  "  I  thought  I  had  lost  you," 
she  murmured  ;  "  I  did  not  venture  to  hope  that  you  would 
forgive  me  so  easily." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  473 

"  Darling  ! "  I  exclaimed,  taking  her  hand  in  mine,  —  "1 
never  accused  you.  I  knew  that  something  had  crept  be- 
iween  us,  which  I  could  not  remove  until  I  should  discovei 
its  nature.  Until  to-night  I  have  been  ignorant  of  youi 
reason  for  my  dismissal.  Had  I  suspected,  —  had  yon 
given  me  a  chance  "  — 

"  Ah,"  she  interrupted  me,  "  you  will  understand  ni} 
abruptness  now  !  It  was  because  I  loved  you,  then,  John, 
that  I  felt  outraged  and  humiliated  —  that  I  resolved  never 
to  see  you  again.  You,  of  all  the  young  men  I  knew,  seemed 
to  me  earnest  and  sincere  ;  I  trusted  in  you,  from  the  start, 
and  just  as  I  began  to  hope  —  as  you  hoped,  John  —  came 
this  blow  to  both  of  us.  It  could  not  have  cost  you  more 
to  bear  than  it  cost  me  to  inflict.  Are  you  sure  you  have 
pardoned  me  ?  " 

"  Isabel ! "  was  all  the  reply  I  could  make,  except  that 
wonderful  speech  of  the  silent,  meeting  lips. 

My  bliss  was  too  pure,  too  perfect  to  be  long  enjoyed 
without  disturbance.  Her  maidenly  courage,  her  frank 
and  fearless  confession  of  reciprocal  love,  filled  me  with  a 
double  trust  and  tenderness  ;  but  it  also  recalled,  ere  long, 
the  shrinking,  evasive  silence  of  the  false-hearted  Amanda 
That  pitiful  episode  of  my  life  must  be  confessed  —  noi 
that  alone.  I  would  not  wrong  the  noble  confidence  of  my 
darling  by  allowing  her  to  think  me  better  than  I  was,  — 
or,  rather,  had  been  ;  for  now  the  highest  virtue,  the  stern 
est  self-denial,  seemed  little  to  pay  in  return  for  my  bless 
ing.  Ah,  had  I  found  it  but  to  lose  it  again  ?  This  under 
current  of  thought  drove  nearer  and  nearer  the  surface 
clouding  the  golden  ether  I  breathed,  infusing  its  bittei 
drop  into  the  nectar  of  my  joy. 

"  Isabel,"  I  said,  "  I  dare  not  win  the  fortune  of  my  life 
BO  easily.  I  have  been  weak  and  sinful ;  you  must  first 
hear  my  story,  and  then  decide  whether  it  is  fitting  that  ] 
should  stand  beside  you.  I  owe  it  to  you  to  complete  youi 
knowledge  of  myself." 


474  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

u  I  expected  nothing  less  from  you,  John,"  she  said.  "  It 
is  just :  nothing  in  cither's  experience  should  be  obscure  tc 
the  other.  You  give  me  the  Present,  you  promise  me  the 
Future,  and  I  therefore  have  a  right  to  the  Past" 

She  spoke  so  firmly  and  cheerfully  that  my  heart  was 
reassured.  I  would  postpone  the  confession  until  our  next 
meeting,  and  indulge  myself,  for  this  one  sacred  evening 
in  the  perfect  sweetness  of  my  bliss.  But  another  reflec- 
tion perversely  arose  to  trouble  me,  —  how  should  my  pov- 
erty consort  with  her  wealth  ?  How  should  I  convince  — 
not  her,  but  the  unbelieving  world  —  of  the  pure,  unselfish 
quality  of  my  affection  ?  Neither  would  I  speak  of  this  ; 
but  she  saw  the  shadow  of  the  thought  pass  over  my  face, 
and  archly  asked,  — 

"  What  else  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  I  said.  "  Your  place  in  the  world  is 
above  mine.  I  cannot  make  a  ladder  of  my  love,  and 
mount  to  the  ease  and  security  which  it  is  a  man's  duty  to 
create  for  himself.  Whatever  your  fortune  may  be,  you 
must  allow  me  to  achieve  mine.  The  difference  between 
us  is  an  accident  which  my  heart  does  not  recognize,  — 
would  to  God  there  were  only  this  difference  !  —  but  I  dare 
not  take  advantage  of  the  equality  of  love,  to  escape  2 
necessity,  which  it  is  best  for  your  sake  as  well  as  my  own 
that  I  should  still  accept.  You  understand  me,  Isabel  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "  Not  for  the  world's 
sake,  but  for  your  own,  I  agree  to  your  proposal.  An  idle 
life  would  not  make  you  happy,  and  I  ought  to  be  glad,  on 
my  part,  that  my  little  fortune  has  not  kept  us  apart  So 
far,  it  has  rather  been  my  misfortune.  It  has  drawn  to  me 
the  false  love,  and  now  it  shall  not  be  allowed  to  rob  me 
of  the  true.  Do  not  let  this  thing  come  between  our  hearts. 
If  it  were  yours,  you  would  share  it  with  me  and  I  should 
freely  enjoy  what  it  brings ;  but  a  man  is  proud  where  a 
woman  would  be  humble,  and  your  pride  is  a  part  of  your 
self,  and  I  love  you  as  you  are !  " 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  475 

•*  God  grant  that  I  may  deserve  you ! "  was  all  I  could 
say.  A  softer  and  holier  spirit  of  tenderness  descender1 
upon  my  heart.  Now,  indeed,  might  my  mother  rejoice 
over  me,  in  her  place  amid  the  repose  of  heaven. 

Presently  there  was  a  gentle  knock  at  the  door,  and  a 
familiar  voice  said,  —  "  May  I  come  in  ?  " 

It  was  Mrs.  Deering,  whose  face  brightened  as  she  looked 
from  one  to  the  other.  She  said  nothing,  but  took  Isabel 
in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  tenderly.  Then  she  gave  me 
her  hand,  and  I  felt  sympathy  and  congratulation  in  its 
touch. 

"  It  is  cruel  in  me  to  interrupt  you,"  she  said,  when  we 
were  all  seated,  — "  but  do  you  know  how  long  I  have  left 
you  alone  ?  An  hour  and  three  quarters,  by  my  watch,  and 
I  was  sure,  Isabel,  that  you  had  long  ago  finished  making 
your  amende.  Mr.  Godfrey,  I  believe  this  girl  is  capable 
of  accepting  a  challenge.  I  should  think  her  a  man,  in  her 
courage  and  sense  of  right,  if  she  had  not  proved  herself 
such  a  dear,  good,  faithful  woman-friend  to  me.  Then,  I 
was  afraid,  Mr.  Godfrey,  that  you  might  slip  away  before  I 
could  tell  you  that  I  know  the  cause  of  Isabel's  misunder- 
standing, and  thank  you,  as  a  woman,  for  what  you  did. 
And  we  have  been  to  see  Mary  Maloney  this  afternoon,  and 
have  heard  your  praises  without  end." 

"  But  Jane  Berry  !  "  I  exclaimed,  to  cover  my  confusion  , 
"  where  is  she  ?  I  must  see  her  again." 

"  I  have  found  a  quiet  place  for  her,  in  Harlem,"  Isabel 
replied.  "  But,  before  you  see  her,  you  must  know  how  I 
became  acquainted  with  her  and  her  story.  Only,  not  to- 
night, John,  pray  ;  to-morrow,  —  you  will  come  again  to- 
morrow ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  and  every  day,  until  the  day  when  I  shall 
cease  to  come,  because  I  shall  cease  to  go." 

Mrs.  Deering  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands  gleefully. 
"  I  see  how  it  is !  "  she  cried  ;  "  I  shall  lose  the  use  of  mj 
parlor,  from  this  time  forth  ;  but  the  interviews  must  be 


476  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

limited  to  two  hours.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I  shall  make 
my  appearance,  watch  in  hand.  Now,  good-night,  Mr 
Godfrey,  —  good-night,  and  God  bless  you!" 

A  quick,  warm  pressure  of  the  hand,  and  she  stole  out 
of  the  room. 

"  She  has  told  me  all,"  said  Isabel,  turning  to  me,  "  and 
we  have  played  the  symphony,  and  wept  over  it  together. 
It  is  a  little  wild  and  incoherent,  but  there  is  the  beat  of  a 
breaking  heart  in  it  from  beginning  to  end.  You  were  a 
true  friend  to  him,  John  ;  how  I  have  wronged  you !  " 

"  I  have  wronged  myself,"  I  exclaimed  ;  "  but  we  will 
talk  no  more  of  that  now.  My  dear  Isabel  —  my  dear 
wife,  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  say  once  more  that  you  love 
me,  and  I  will  keep  the  words  in  my  ear  and  in  my  heart 
until  we  meet  again  !  " 

She  laid  her  arms  about  my  neck,  she  looked  full  in  my 
face  with  her  brave  and  lovely  eyes,  and  said,  —  "I  love 
you,  —  you  only,  now  and  forever."  Then,  heart  to  heart, 
and  lip  to  lip,  our  beings  flowed  together,  and  the  man's 
nature  in  me  received  the  woman's,  and  thenceforth  was 
truly  man. 

"  Stay  ! "  she  whispered,  when  I  would  have  left,  —  "  stay, 
one  moment ! "  She  glided  from  the  room,  but  returned 
almost  immediately,  with  a  slip  of  crumpled  paper  in  her 
hand. 

"  Here  "  she  said,  holding  it  towards  me,  — "  this  separated 
us,  this  brought  us  together  again.  It  can  do  no  further 
harm  or  service.  Let  me  burn  it,  and  with  it  the  mem- 
ory —  for  both  of  us  —  of  the  evening  when  it  was  writ- 
ten." 

I  looked  at  it,  and  read,  with  indescribable  astonishment, 
the  words,  — "  Miss  Haworth  informs  Mr.  Godfrey  that 
her  acquaintance  with  him  has  ceased."  It  was  the  very 
note  I  had  received  that  evening  in  Gramercy  Park ! 

"  Isabel  !  what  does  this  mean  ?  "  I  cried,  in  amaze- 
HMUt 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  477 

She  smiled,  lighted  one  end  of  the  paper  at  the  gas- 
burner,  watched  it  slowly  consume,  and  threw  its  black 
shrivelling  phantom  into  the  grate. 

"  It  belongs  to  the  story,"  she  said ;  — "  you  shall  heai 
everything  to-morrow.  Now  good-night !  " 


\ 


478  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES, 


CHAPTER   XXXVIEL 

OF    WHICH   JANE    BERRY   IS    THE   HEROINE. 

ON  my  way  home,  under  stars  that  sang  together,  my  fiisi 
thought  was  of  my  faithful  Bob.  It  was  already  a  late 
hour  for  a  man  of  his  habits,  but,  sleeping  or  waking,  I 
resolved  that  he  should  know  Jane  Berry  was  found.  I 
turned  out  of  the  Bowery  into  Stanton  Street,  hastened 
onward  with  winged  strides,  and  reached  the  door  breath- 
less with  impatience  and  joy. 

All  were  in  bed  except  the  journeyman's  wife,  who  was 
at  first  a  little  alarmed  at  my  untimely  visit.  I  reassured 
her,  declaring  that  I  brought  only  good  news,  borrowed  a 
candle  and  went  up-stairs  to  Bob's  room.  The  noise  of  my 
entrance  did  not  break  his  healthy,  profound  sleep.  I 
placed  the  light  on  the  mantel-piece,  took  my  seat  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed,  and  looked  on  the  plain,  rugged  face  I 
loved.  The  unconscious  features  betrayed  no  releasei 
expression  of  guile  or  cruelty :  there  was  honesty  on  the 
brow,  candor  on  the  full,  unwrinkled  eyelid,  and  goodness 
on  the  closed  lips.  Only  the  trouble  of  his  heart,  which  he 
would  not  show  by  day,  now  stole  to  the  light  and  saddened 
all  his  face. 

He  seemed  to  feel  my  steady  gaze,  even  in  sleep ;  he 
sighed  and  tossed  his  arm  upon  the  coverlet.  I  seized  his 
hand,  and  held  it,  crying,  "  Bob  !  Bob  ! " 

His  eyes  were  open  in  an  instant  "  Eh  ?  John!  what's 
the  matter  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  starting  up  in  bed. 

"  Nothing  wrong.  Bob.  T  would  n't  rouse  you  from  sleep 
bo  hear  bad  news." 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  47S 

"  John,  have  you  found  her  ?  " 

I  felt  the  pulses  in  the  hand  I  held  leaping  strong  and 
fast,  and  answered,  "'  She  is  found.  I  have  not  seen  her. 
but  I  know  where  she  is,  —  under  the  best  protection,  with 
the  best  help,  —  far  better  than  mine  could  be,  Bob." 

He  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  and  his  fingers  uncon- 
sciously tightened  around  my  hand.  "  You  're  a  good 
friend,  John,"  he  said.  "  Stand  by  me  a  little  longer. 
You  're  smarter  at  thinkin'  than  I  am,  —  I  can  only  think 
with  my  hands,  you  know.  Tell  me  what  ought  I  to  do  ?  " 

«  Do  you  love  her  still,  Bob  ?" 

"  God  knows  I  do.  I  tried  hard  not  to,  after  you  told 
me  what  she  'd  done ;  but  I  could  n't  help  pityin'  her,  and, 
you  see,  that  built  up  the  feelin'  on  one  side  as  fast  as  I 
tore  it  down  on  t'  other.  But  then,  John,  there 's  the  dis- 
grace. My  name 's  as  good  to  me  as  the  next  man's,  and 
my  wife's  name  is  mine.  I  must  look  ahe?d  and  see  what 
may  come  —  if —  if  she  should  care  for  me  (which  I  'm  not 
sure  of),  and  I  should  forgive  her  folly.  Could  I  see  her 
p'inted  at,  —  could  I  bear  to  knoto  things  was  said,  even 
though  I  should  n't  hear  'em  ?  And  then,  —  that  would  be 
the  hardest  of  all,  —  could  I  be  the  father  o'  children  that 
must  be  ashamed  o'  their  mother  ?  I  tell  you,  my  head  's 
nigh  tired  out  with  tryin'  to  get  the  rights  o'  this  matter. 
I  'm  not  hard,  —  that  you  know,  —  and  I  could  forgive  her 
for  bein'  blindly  led  into  sin  that  a  man  does  with  his  eyes 
open,  if  there  was  more  men  that  think  as  I  do.  But  it 
is  n't  the  men,  after  all,  John  ;  it 's  the  women  that  tear 
each  other  to  pieces  without  mercy  !  " 

"  Not  all,  Bob !  "  I  cried  ;  "  it  is  a  woman  who  protects 
her  now,  —  a  woman  who  knows  her  story,  —  and  oh,  Bob, 
thit  woman  will  one  day  be  my  wife,  if  God  allows  me  so 
much  happiness ! " 

I  now  told  him,  for  the  first  time,  of  the  great  fortune 
which  had  come  to  me.  It  seemed  hard,  indeed,  to  intrude 
my  pure  bliss  upon  the  trouble  of  his  heart;  but  his  nature 


480  JOHN   GODFREY'S    FORTUNES. 

was  too  sound  for  envy,  or  for  any  other  feeling  than  the 
heartiest  sympathy.  Encouraged  by  the  bright  congratu- 
lation of  his  face,  I  allowed  my  heart  the  full  use  of  my 
tongue,  and  grew  so  selfish  in  my  happiness  that  I  might 
have  talked  all  night,  but  for  the  warning  sound  of  a  neigh- 
boring church-clock  striking  twelve.  Poor  Bob  had  thrust 
aside  his  own  interests  and  perplexities,  that  he  might 
rejoice  in  the  new  promise  of  my  life. 

I  broke  off  abruptly,  and  replied  to  his  first  question. 
"  Bob,"  I  said,  "  I  believe  Jane  Berry  is  still  uncomipted  at 
heart  I  believe,  also,  that  the  conviction  of  having  lost 
you  is  her  greatest  sorrow.  But  do  not  ask  me  to  advise 
you  what  to  do  ;  a  man's  own  heart  must  decide  for  him, 
not  another's.  See  her  first ;  I  shall  learn  to-morrow 
where  she  is.  I  will  go  to  her,  and  prepare  her  to  meet 
you,  if  you  are  willing,  —  then  act  as  God  shall  put  it  in 
your  mind  to  do.  Now,  I  must  go,  —  good-night,  you  good 
old  Trojan  ! " 

I  gave  him  a  slap  over  the  broad  shoulders,  and,  before 
I  knew  it,  I  was  drawn  up  and  held  in  iron  muscles,  until  I 
felt  a  man's  heart  hammering  like  a  closed  fist  against  my 
breast.  Then  he  released  me,  and  I  went  down-stairs  to 
find  the  journeyman's  wife  sitting  on  the  lowest  step,  fast 
asleep,  with  her  head  against  the  railing,  and  a  tallow  dip, 
sputtering  in  its  socket,  at  her  side. 

The  next  day  was  only  less  eventful  in  my  history  than 
its  predecessor.  I  saw  Isabel,  and  adhered  to  my  self- 
imposed  duty.  What  passed  between  us  belongs  to  those 
sanctities  of  the  heart  which  each  man  and  woman  holds 
as  his  or  her  exclusive  possession.  She  knew  my  life  at 
last,  —  nothing  weak,  or  dark,  or  disgraceful  in  its  past 
was  withheld.  I  felt  that  I  dared  not  accept  the  bounty  of 
her  love,  if  it  rested  on  a  single  misconception  of  my 
nature.  Had  I  known  her  then  as  I  now  know  her,  I 
should  have  understood  that  nothing  was  risked  by  the 
confessio  i,  —  that  her  pardon  already  existed  in  her  love 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  481 

But  alas !  I  had  looked  on  married  life,  and  seen  —  as  1 
still  see  —  concealment  and  cowardice  —  honest  affection 
striving  to  accommodate  itself  to  imperfect  confidence! 
Women  are  stronger  than  you  think  them  to  be,  my  broth- 
er-men !  and  by  so  much  as  you  trust  them  with  the  full 
knowledge  of  yourselves,  by  so  much  more  will  they  be 
qualified,  not  only  to  comfort,  but  to  guard  you! 

During  that  interview   I  learned,   also,   the   wonderful 

O  * 

chance  —  the  Providence  I  prefer  to  call  it  —  which  brought 
Isabel  and  myself  together  again.  Some  particulars,  lack- 
ing in  her  narrative,  were  supplied  afterwards  by  Jane 
Berry,  but  I  give  them  now  complete  as  they  exist  in  my 
mind.  In  fact,  so  vivid  and  distinct  is  the  story  that  it 
almost  seems  to  be  a  part  of  my  own  experience. 

Jane  Berry's  first  determination,  after  my  last  interview 
with  her,  was  to  find  other  quarters,  commensurate  with 
her  slender  means,  and  as  far  as  possible  from  Gooseberry 
Alley.  One  of  the  needle-women  employed  by  the  Bowery 
establishment  had  found  better  work  and  wages  at  a  fash- 
ionable dress-maker's  in  Twenty-ninth  Street,  and,  with  her 
help,  Jane  succeeded,  the  next  morning,  in  engaging  a 
humble  room  in  Tenth  Avenue,  with  the  prospect  of  occa- 
sional jobs  from  the  same  mistress.  She  was  impelled  to 
this  step  by  her  desire  to  save  Mary  Maloney  from  the 
trouble  of  malicious  tongues,  and  by  a  vague  instinct  which 
counselled  her  to  avoid  me.  Thus  it  was  that  she  only 
remained  long  enough  to  finish  the  Christmas-gift,  which 
she  would  leave  for  me  as  a  token  of  her  gratitude. 

O 

The  evening  after  my  visit,  however,  she  made  a  discov 
ery.  In  repairing  the  buttons  of  the  waistcoat  which  Mary 
Maloney  had  retained  as  a  pattern  for  the  new  one,  she 
found  a  crumpled  paper  in  one  of  the  pockets.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  stray  fragment  of  no  consequence,  and  she  was 
about  to  throw  it  away,  when  her  eye  caught  sight  of  my 
name  in  one  of  the  IAVO  written  lines.  She  read  them,  and 
her  mind,  simple  as  it  was,  detected  a  partial  connection 
31 


482  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

between  them  and  the  reckless  words  I  had  addressed  fn 
her.  I  had  said  —  she  well  remembered  it  —  that  I  loved 
one  who  was  lost  to  me  through  no  fault  of  mine  ;  that  one 
was  probably  this  Miss  Haworth.  It  was  natural  that  her 
fancy,  brooding  always  over  her  own  shame,  should  suggest 
iliat  she  might  be  the  innocent  cause  of  my  disappointment ; 
my  name  was  disgracefully  coupled  with  hers  by  the  ten 
ants  of  Gooseberry  Alley,  and  judging  New  York  by  Hack 
ettstown,  it  seemed  probable  to  her  that  all  my  acquaint- 
ances might  be  familiar  with  the  report.  It  was  a  suspicion 
which  occasioned  her  bitter  grief,  and  she  resolved  to  clear 
my  reputation  at  the  expense  of  her  own. 

Thus,  her  very  ignorance  of  the  world  helped  her  to  the 
true  explanation  of  Miss  Haworth's  repulse,  while  the  cir- 
cumstance which  actually  led  to  it  was  so  accidental  as  to 
be  beyond  my  own  guessing.  To  discover  and  undeceivt 
Miss  Haworth  was  the  determination  which  at  once  took 
possession  of  her  mind.  She  said  to  herself,  —  "  What  a 
lucky  name  !  I  never  heard  it  before.  If  she  were  Miss 
Smith,  or  Miss  Brown,  I  might  as  well  give  up  ;  but,  big  as 
New  York  is,  I  am  sure  I  can  find  Miss  Haworth  ! " 

Poor  girl,  I  fancy  her  search  was  sufficiently  long  and 
discouraging.  She  may  possibly  have  tried  the  "  Directory," 
but  it  could  give  her  no  help.  Installed  in  the  working- 
room  of  the  dress-maker,  she  kept  her  ears  open  to  the 
talk  of  the  fashionable  visitors,  in  the  hope  of  hearing  the 
name  mentioned.  Once  it  came,  as  she  thought,  and  with 
much  trouble,  much  anxiety  of  heart,  and  many  cunning 
little  expedients,  she  discovered  the  residence  of  the  lady 
who  bore  it,  only  to  find  "  Hayward  "  on  the  door-plate  !  It 
was  wonderful  that,  with  her  poor,  simple,  insufficient  plan 
of  search,  she  ever  accomplished  anything,  and  this  is  my 
reason  for  accepting  her  success  as  due  to  the  guidance  of 
Providence.  One  species  of  help,  at  least,  she  was  shrewd 
enough  to  perceive  and  take  hold  of;  she  learned  the  names 
and  addresses  of  other  conspicuous  modistes  in  the  upper 


JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  482 

part  of  the  city,  and  visited  them,  one  by  one,  to  ascertair 
whether  they  numbered  a  Miss  Haworth  among  their  pa 
tronesses.  It  was  truly  a  woman's  device,  and  being  pa 
tiently  followed,  brought  at  last  its  reward. 

The  manner  of  the  discovery  was  curious,  and  I  have  no 
loubt  but  that  I  understand  how  it  came  about  better  than 
Jane  herself.  Her  unsophisticated  air  very  probably  cre- 
ated suspicion  in  the  minds  of  some  of  the  sharp  women 
of  business  upon  whom  she  called  ;  she  may  have  been 
suspected  of  being  the  crafty  agent,  or  drummer,  of  a  rival 
establishment,  for  her  question  was  ungraciously  received, 
and  she  was  often  keenly  questioned  in  turn.  Her  pa- 
tience had  been  severely  tried,  and  the  possibility  of  failure 
was  beginning  to  present  itself  to  her  mind,  when  one  day, 
at  the  close  of  March,  she  was  attracted  by  the  sign  of 
"  Madame  Boise,  from  Paris,"  and  timidly  entered,  to  re- 
peat her  inquiry.  Madame  Boise",  who  spoke  English  with 
a  New-England  accent,  listened  with  an  air  of  suspicion, 
asked  a  question  or  two,  and  finally  said,  — 

"  I  don't  know  any  Miss  flat/worth." 

While  saying  this,  she  turned  a  large,  light  parcel  up- 
side down,  so  that  the  address  would  be  concealed.  The 
movement  did  not  escape  Jane  Berry's  eye ;  the  idea  came 
into  her  head,  and  would  not  be  banished,  that  Madame  did 
know  Miss  Haworth,  and  that  the  parcel  in  question  was 
meant  for  her.  She  left  the  house  and  waited  patiently  ai 
the  corner  of  the  block  until  she  saw  a  messenger-girl  issue 
from  the  door.  Noting  the  direction  the  latter  took,  she 
slipped  rapidly  around  the  block  and  met  her.  It  was  easy 
enough  to  ascertain  from  the  girl  whither  her  errand  led. 
and  Jane's  suspicion  was  right  She  not  only  learned  Miss 
Haworth's  address,  but,  for  greater  certainty,  accompanied 
the  girl  to  the  house. 

The  next  morning  she  stole  away  from  her  work,  filled 
with  the  sense  of  the  responsibility  hanging  over  her,  and 
went  to  seek  an  interview  with  Isabel.  If  she  had  stopped 


484  JOHN   GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

*o  reflect  upon  what  she  was  about  to  do,  she  might  havt 
hesitated  and  drawn  back  from  the  difficult  task ;  but  the 
singleness  and  unthinking  earnestness  of  her  purpose  drove 
her  straightforward  to  its  accomplishment. 

The  servant  who  answered  the  door  endeavored  to  learn 
\  er  business,  and  seemed  disinclined  to  carry  her  message, 
">ut  finally  left  her  standing  in  the  hall  and  summoned  Miss 
Haworth.  When  Jane  saw  the  latter  descending  the  stairs, 
she  felt  sure  she  had  found  the  right  lady,  from  the  color 
of  her  eyes  ;  this  was  the  naive  reason  she  gave. 

Isabel  said,  "  You  wished  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Haworth,  nobody  but  you.  Must  I  tell  you. 
here,  what  I  've  got  to  say  ?  Are  you  sure  I  won't  be  over- 
heard?" 

"  Come  in  here,  then,"  Isabel  answered,  opening  the  door 
of  the  drawing-room,  "if  your  message  is  so  important. 
But  I  do  not  recollect  that  I  have  ever  seen  you  before." 

"  No,  miss,  you  never  saw  me,  and  I  don't  come  on  my 
own  account,  but  on  his.  You  '11  pardon  me  for  speaking 
of  him  to  you,  but  I  must  try  to  set  you  right  about  him. 
Oh,  miss,  he  's  good  and  true,  —  he  saved'  me  from  ruin, 
and  it 's  the  least  I  can  do  to  clear  up  his  character !  " 

"  Him  ?  Who  ?  "  Isabel  exclaimed,  in  great  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Mr.  Godfrey." 

Isabel  turned  pale  with  the  shock  of  the  unexpected 
name  ;  but  the  next  instant  a  resentful,  suspicious  feeling 
shot  through  her  heart,  and  she  asked,  with  a  cold,  stern 
face,  — 

"  Did  he  send  you  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  miss  !  "  Jane  cried,  in  distress,  the  tears  coming 
into  her  eyes ;  "  he  don't  know  where  I  am.  I  went  away 
because  the  people  talked,  and  the  more  he  helped  me  the 
more  his  name  was  disgraced  on  account  of  it.  Please 

O 

don't  look  so  angry,  miss ;  don't  go  away,  until  you  've 
heard  all !  I  '11  tell  you  everything.  Perhaps  you  ''ve 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  iSi 

heard  it  already,  and  know  what  I  've  been ;  I  '11  bear  youi 
blame,  —  I  '11  bear  anything,  if  you  '11  only  wait  and  heai 
the  truth ! " 

She  dropped  on  her  knees,  and  clasped  her  hands  im- 
ploringly. Her  passionate  earnestness  bound  Isabel  to  lis- 
ten, but  the  latter's  suspicion  was  not  yet  allayed. 

"  Who  told  you  to  come  to  me  ?  "  she  asked.  "  How  did 
you  learn  that  I  once  knew  Mr.  Godfrey  ?  " 

"  Not  him,  miss,  oh,  not  him  !  I  found  it  out  without  his 
knowledge.  When  I  saw  that  he  was  n't  his  right  self,  — 
he  was  desperate,  and  said  that  he  was  parted  from  one  he 
loved,  and  through  no  fault  of  his,  and  he  did  n't  care  what 
would  become  of  him,  —  and  then  when  I  found  this,"  — 
here  she  produced  the  note,  —  "and  saw  your  name,  I 
guessed  you  were  the  one.  And  then  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  come  to  you  and  clear  him  from  the  wicked  reports,  — 
for  indeed,  miss,  they  're  not  true.!  " 

Jane's  imperfect,  broken  revelations,  —  the  sight  of  the 
note,  —  the  evident  truth  of  the  girl's  manner,  —  strangely 
agitated  Isabel's  heart.  She  lifted  her  from  the  floor,  led 
her  to  a  seat,  seated  herself  near  her  and  said,  — 

"  I  will  hear  all  you  have  to  say.  Try  and  compose 
yourself  to  speak  plainly,  for  you  must  bear  in  mind  that  I 
know  nothing.  Tell  me  first  who  you  are." 

"I  am  Jane  Berry,  the  girl  he  saved  the  night  of  the 
fire." 

"  Were  you  with  him  one  evening  in  Washington 
Square?" 

"  Yes !  "  Jane  eagerly  exclaimed.     "  That  was  the  time 

told  him  all  about  myself,  and  how  I  came  to  be  where  I 
was.  And  now  I  must  tell  you  the  same,  miss.  If  it  does 
n't  seem  becoming  for  you  to  hear,  you  '11  forgive  me  wher. 
you  think  what  it  is  to  me  to  say  it." 

"Tell  me." 

Whereupon  Jane,  with  many  breaks  and  outbursts  of 
shame  and  self-accusation,  repeated  her  sad  story.  CM 


486  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

course  she  withheld  so  much  of  my  last  interview  with  hei 
as  might  reflect  an  unfavorable  light  upon  myself.  Isabe 
saw  in  me  only  the  virtuous  protector  whom  she  had  sc 
cruelly  misjudged.  Jane's  narrative  was  so  straightforward 
and  circumstantial  that  it  was  impossible  to  doubt  its  truth. 
Pity  for  the  unfortunate  girl,  and  condemnation  of  her  own 
rash  judgment  were  mingled  in  her  heart  with  the  dawning 
of  a  sweet,  maidenly  hope. 

"  Jane  Berry,"  she  said,  when  at  last  all  the  circumstances 
were  clearly  explained,  "  you  have  done  both  a  good  and  a 
heroic  thing  in  coming  to  me.  I  promise  you  that  I  will 
make  atonement  to  Mr.  Godfrey  for  my  injustice.  You 
must  let  me  be  your  friend ;  you  must  allow  me  to  assist 
and  protect  you,  in  your  struggles  to  redeem  yourself.  I 
will  take  Mr.  Godfrey's  place :  it  belongs  to  a  woman." 

Jane  melted  into  grateful  tears.  Isabel,  feeling  that  she 
deserved  the  joy  of  being  the  messenger  of  justice  to  me, 
wrote  a  note  similar  to  that  which  called  me  back  to  her, 
and  intrusted  Jane  with  its  delivery.  The  message  failed, 
because  I  was  at  that  time  dishonorably  banished  from 
Mrs.  De  Peyster's  boarding-house,  and  my  den  in  Crosby 
Street  was  known  to  no  one. 

The  fateful  interview  was  over,  and  Jane,  with  the 
precious  note  in  her  hands,  was  leaving  the  drawing-room, 
when  the  street-door  opened,  and  Mr.  Tracy  Floyd  entered 
the  hall.  Isabel,  following  Jane,  heard  the  latter  utter  a 
wild,  startled  scream,  and  saw  her  turn,  with  a  pale,  fright- 
ened face  and  trembling  limbs,  and  fall  upon  the  floor, 
almost  swooning. 

"  Damnation  !  here 's  a  devil  of  a  muss  ! "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Floyd,  with  a  petrified  look  on  his  vapid  face.  Perceiving 
Isabel,  he  ran  up-stairs,  muttering  curses  as  he  went 

"  Oh,  miss  !  "  Jane  breathlessly  cried,  clutching  a  chair 
and  dragging  herself  to  her  feet,  —  "dear,  good  Miss 
Haworth,  don't  let  that  man  come  into  your  house  !  Tell 
me  that  you  're  not  thinking  of  marrying  him  !  He  s  the 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  487 

one  I  was  talking  of!  I  Ve  never  mentioned  his  name  yel 
to  a  living  soul,  but  you  must  know,  for  your  own  sake 
Perhaps  he'  11  deny  it,  —  for  he  lied  to  me  and  he  'cl  lie  to 
you,  —  but  see  here !  I  call  on  God  to  strike  me  dead  this 
minute,  if  I  've  told  you  a  false  word  about  him  ! " 

She  held  up  her  right  hand  as  she  pronounced  the  awful 
words,  but  Isabel  did  not  need  this  solemn  invocation.  Her 
pure,  proud  nature  shrank  from  the  ignominy  of  her  rela- 
tion to  that  man,  and  a  keener  pang  of  reproach  entered 
her  heart  as  she  remembered  that  his  insinuations  in  regard 
to  myself —  doubly  infamous  now  —  had  made  her  mind  so 
rapid  to  condemn  me.  It  was  impossible  for  her,  thence- 
forth, to  meet  her  step-brother,  —  impossible  to  dwell  in 
the  same  house  with  him. 

I  have  reason  to  believe,  now,  that  Mr.  Tracy  Floyd  was 
one  of  the  band  of  genteel  rowdies  whom  I  encountered  in 
Houston  Street  on  the  evening  of  the  fire,  —  that  he  recog- 
nized me  and  watched  me  conducting  Jane  Berry  to  Goose- 
berry Alley.  Perhaps  he  may  have  lain  in  wait  for  my  visits 
afterwards.  Whether  he  also  recognized  Jane  Berry,  it  is 
impossible  to  say.  Let  us  seek  to  diminish  rather  than  in- 
crease the  infamy  of  his  class,  and  give  him  the  benefit  of 
the  uncertainty. 

Isabel  only  remained  long  enough  to  find  a  safe  place  of 
refuge  for  Jane  Berry.  The  fears  of  the  latter  were  so 
excited  by  her  encounter  with  her  betrayer  that  she  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  go  as  far  as  possible  from  the  crowded 
heart  of  the  city,  and  gladly  embraced  the  proposition  r>f 
boarding  with  a  humble,  honest  family  in  Harlem.  When 
this  duty  was  performed,  Isabel,  impulsive  in  all  things 
which  concerned  her  feelings,  left  immediately  for  Boston, 
resolved  never  to  return  to  her  step-father's  house  while 
his  son  remained  one  of  its  inmates. 

I  lost  no  time  in  visiting  Jane  Berry.  She,  of  course, 
had  learned  nothing,  as  yet,  of  what  had  taken  place,  and 
her  surprise  at  my  sudden  appearance  was  extreme.  1 


*$8  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

knew,  from  the  eager,  delighted  expression  of  her  face, 
what  thoughts  were  in  her  mind,  what  words  would  soon 
find  their  way  to  her  lips,  and  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  forestall  her  by  a  still  happier  message. 

"  Jane,"  I  cried,  taking  her  hands,  "  it  is  you  who  have 
saved  me!  I  have  seen  Isabel  Haworth,  and  she  ha?- 
burned  the  note  you  took  out  of  my  waistcoat-pocket !  — 
burned  it  before  my  eyes,  Jane,  and  she  has  promised  to 
write  another,  some  day,  and  sign  it  '  Isabel  Godfrey  ! ' " 

"  Oh,  is  it  so,  Mr.  Godfrey  ?  Then  I  can  be  happy  again, 
—  I  have  done  some  good  at  last !  " 

"  You  are  good,  Jane.  We  shall  be  your  friends,  always. 
Show  the  same  patience  in  leading  an  honest  life  that  you 
have  shown  in  helping  me,  and  you  may  not  only  redeem 
your  fault  but  outlive  its  pain." 

"No  —  no  !  "  she  said,  sighing.  "  I  've  heard  it  said  that 
a  moment's  folly  may  spoil  a  lifetime,  and  it 's  true.  I  've 
been  trying  to  think  for  myself,  —  I  never  did  it  before,  — 
and  though  I  may  n't  be  able  to  put  everything  into  words 
as  you  do,  it 's  here,"  (touching  her  heart,)  "  and  I  under- 
stand it" 

I  thought  of  Bob,  and  felt  that  I  was  forced  to  probe  her 
sorest  wound,  with  no  certainty  of  healing  it.  But  for 
Bob's  sake  it  must  be  done. 

"  Jane,"  I  said,  gravely,  "  I  have  found  some  one  whom 
you  know,  —  who  loved,  and  still  loves  you.  Jane,  he  is 
my  dearest  friend,  my  old  schoolmate  and  playfellow,  who 
picked  me  up  the  other  day,  when  I  was  a  miserable  vaga- 
bond, and  set  me  on  my  feet  He  followed  you  when  you 
left  Hackettstown,  and  has  been  trying  to  find  you  ever 
since.  Will  you  see  him  ? " 

I  saw,  by  her  changing  color,  and  the  unconscious,  con- 
vulsive movement  of  her  hands,  that  the  first  surprise  of 
my  news  was  succeeded  by  a  painful  conflict  of  feeling. 

"  Does  he  know  ?"  —  she  whispered. 

a  He  knows  all,  and  it  is  the  sorrow  of  his  life,  as  of 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  480 

yours.  But  I  am  to  tell  you,'  from  him,  that  he  will  no1 
force  himself  upon  you.  You  must  decide,  for  yourself 
whether  or  not  he  shall  come." 

"Not  now  —  not  now!"  she  cried.  "If  I  could  look 
through  the  blinds  of  a  window  and  see  him  passing  by,  I 
think  it  would  be  a  comfort,  —  but  I  ought  n't  to  wish  even 
for  that.  Don't  think  me  hard,  Mr.  Godfrey,  or  ungrateful 
for  his  remembrance  of  me  when  I  've  no  right  to  it ;  but, 
indeed,  I  dare  n't  meet  him  now.  Perhaps  a  time  may 
come,  —  I  don't  know,  —  it 's  better  not  to  promise  any- 
thing. I  may  work  and  get  myself  a  good  name  :  people 
may  forget,  if  they  've  heard  evil  reports  of  me  ;  but  he 
can't  forget.  Tell  him  I  thank  him  from  my  heart,  and 
will  pray  for  him  on  my  knees  every  night.  Tell  him  I 
know  now,  when  it 's  too  late,  how  good  and  true  he  is,  and 
I  '11  give  back  his  love  for  me  in  the  only  way  I  dare,  —  by 
saving  him  from  his  own  generous  heart!  " 

I  sighed  when  I  saw  how  the  better  nature  of  the  woman 
had  been  developed  out  of  the  ruins  of  her  life,  and  that 
she  was  really  worthy  of  an  honest  man's  love  through  the 
struggle  which  bade  her  relinquish  the  hope  of  ever  attain- 
ing it.  But  I  could  not  attempt  to  combat  her  feelings 
without  weakening  that  sense  of  guilt  which  was  the  basis 
of  her  awakened  conscience,  the  vital  principle  of  her  re- 
turning virtue.  It  was  best,  for  the  present,  at  least,  to 
leave  her  to  herself. 

To  my  surprise  —  and  also  to  my  relief —  Bob  acqui- 
esced very  quietly  in  her  decision. 

"  It 's  about  what  I  expected,"  he  said,  "  and  I  can't  help 
thinkin'  better  of  her  for  it.  Between  you  and  me,  John, 
if  she  'd  ha'  been  over-anxious  to  see  me,  't  would  n't  ha' 
been  a  good  sign,  and  I  might  ha'  drawed  back.  You  know 
what  I  asked  you  about,  —  I  've  turned  it  over  ag'in,  and 
this  time  it  comes  out  clearer.  I  've  got  to  wait  and  be 
patient  the  Lord  knows  how  long,  but  His  ways  won't  be 
hurried.  I  must  be  satisfied  with  knowin'  she  's  in  good 


*90  JOHN    GODFREY'S     FORTUNES. 

hands,  where  I  can  always  hear  of  her  ;  and  maybe  a  day  U 
come  when  the  sight  o'  me  will  give  her  less  trouble  than 
't  would  now,  and  when  it  '11  be  easier  for  me  to  forgit 
what 's  past" 

Bob  bent  his  neck  to  his  fate  like  a  strong  ox  to  the 
yoke.  Nothing  in  his  life  was  changed :  he  was  still  the 
steady,  sober,  industrious  foreman,  with  a  chance  of  becom- 
ing "boss"  in  a  year  or  two,  respected  by  his  workmen, 
trusted  by  his  employer,  and  loved  with  a  brotherly  affec- 
tion by  at  least  one  fellow-man.  His  hands  might  hew  out 
for  him  a  more  insignificant  path  in  the  world  than  my  head 
achieved  for  me,  but  they  beat  down  snares  and  bridged 
pitfalls  which  my  head  could  only  escape  by  long  and  weary 
moral  circuits.  Our  lives  were  not  so  disproportionately 
endowed  as  they  seemed  to  my  boyish  eyes. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  491 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

»  WHICH    I    RECEIVE  AN    UNEXPECTED    LETT  -:B   FROM 
UNCLE    WOOLLEY. 

DID  ever  such  a  summer  shine  upon  the  earth  ?  Did 
the  shadow-broidery  of  trees  ever  deepen  into  the  perfect 
canopy  of  shade,  the  bud  open  into  the  blossom,  May  ripeu 
to  June,  with  such  a  sweet,  glowing,  unbroken  transition  ? 
Never,  at  least,  had  I  seen  the  same  diamond  sparkle  on 
the  waves  of  the  harbor,  in  my  morning  walks  on  the  Bat- 
tery, or  the  same  mellow  glory  of  sunset  over  Union  Square, 
in  returning  from  interviews  which  grew  dearer  and  hap- 
pier with  every  repetition.  Even  the  coming  separation 
could  not  rob  the  season  of  its  splendor :  day  after  day  the 
sun  shone,  and  the  breezes  blew,  and  the  fresh  leaves  whis- 
pered to  one  burden,  —  joy,  joy,  joy  ! 

And  day  by  day  there  came  to  me  a  truer  and  holier 
knowledge  of  Isabel's  nature.  It  seemed,  indeed,  that  I 
had  never  known  a  woman  before,  in  the  beautiful  harmony 
which  binds  and  reconciles  her  apparent  inconsistencies,  so 
that  courage  may  dwell  side  by  side  with  timidity,  exaction 
with  bounty,  purity  with  knowledge.  The  moral  enigmas 
which  had  perplexed  me  found  in  her  their  natural  solution, 
and  she  became  at  once  my  protecting  and  forgiving  con- 
science. I  thought,  then,  that  she  surpassed  me  in  every- 
thing, but  her  truer  instinct  prefigured  my  own  maturer 
development  Love  can  seldom  exist  without  a  balance  of 
compensations,  and  I  have  lived  to  know  —  and  to  be 
grateful  for  the  knowledge  —  that  I  am  her  help  and  stay, 
as  she  is  mine. 


492  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

Fortunately  for  myself,  she  was  not  a  woman  of  genius, 
to  overpower  my  proper  ambition,  or  bend  it  to  her  will. 
Such  may  consort  with  the  gentle,  yielding,  contented  per- 
sons of  our  sex  who  supply  that  repose  which  is  the  coveted 
complement  of  the  restless  quality.  Genius  is  always  her- 
maphroditic, adding  a  male  element  to  the  woman  and  a 
female  to  the  man.  In  Isabel,  the  strong  sentiment  of  jus* 
tice  and  the  noble  fearlessness  with  which  she  obeyed  its 
promptings,  were  also  the  sterling  attributes  of  her  owr 
sex,  and  they  but  made  her  womanly  softness  rarer  and 
lovelier.  Her  admirable  cultivation  gave  her  an  apparent 
poise  of  character  and  ripeness  of  judgment,  which  pro- 
tected, not  obscured,  the  fresh,  virgin  purity  of  her  feelings. 
My  sentimental  phantom  of  inconstancy  vanished  when  I 
compared  my  shallow  emotion  for  Amanda  with  this  perfect 
passion  in  which  I  lived  and  moved  and  had  my  being. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  I  knew  what  it  was  to  love. 

I  have  said  that  a  separation  was  approaching.  Her 
summer  was  to  be  spent,  as  usual,  in  the  country,  —  the 
greater  part  of  it  with  Mrs.  Deering,  at  Sachem's  Head,  — 
which  gave  me  the  promise  of  an  occasional  brief  visit. 
Isabel's  mother,  in  her  will,  had  expressed  the  desire  —  il 
was  not  worded  as  a  command  —  that  she  would  not  marry 
before  her  twenty-first  birthday.  Her  fortune,  until  then, 
was  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  of  whom  Mr.  Floyd  was  one, 
and  from  her  eighteenth  year  she  was  allowed  the  use  of 
the  annual  income.  Until  now,  her  step-father  had  drawn 
it  in  her  name,  and  she  had  allowed  him  to  use  the  greater 
portion  of  it  in  his  private  speculations.  Of  course  his  con- 
sent to  her  marriage  was  not  to  be  expected,  and  she  de- 
cided not  to  mention  her  betrothal  until  she  should  come 
into  the  possession  of  her  property,  in  the  following  October. 

We  were  discussing  these  prosaic  matters,  —  not  during 
the  second  interview,  be  it  understood,  nor  even  the  tenth, 
—  and  I  had  confessed  the  trouble  of  mind  which  her  for- 
tuiie  had  caused  me,  when  she  playfully  asked,  — 


JOHN   GODFREYS  FORTUNES.  493 

"  What  were  the  dimensions  of  this  terrible  bu<rl>ear  ? 
Tsikinjr  your  misg-ivin-rs.  .John,  and  the  eagerness  of  cer- 
tain others,  one   would  suppose   it   to   he   a   question  of 
millions.     Tell  me,  candidly,  what  is  presumed  to  be  my 
market  value?  " 

"I  don't  know,  precisely,"  1  answered;"  "  Penrose 
said — some  hundreds  of  thousands  !  " 

"Penrose  !"  She  paused,  and  an  expression  of  disap- 
pointment passed  over  her  face.  "  I  would  rather  he  had 
not  said  it.  I  did  not  think  him  selfish,  —  in  that  way. 
There  is  a  mocking  spirit  in  him  which  repels  me,  but  I  de- 
tected noble  qualities  under  it,  at  the  last.  I  could  have 
accepted  and  honored  him  as  a  friend,  if  he  had  permitted 
me.  But  to  come  back  to  the  important  subject,  —  he  was 
wrong,  and  your  trouble  might  have  been  diminished  by 
two  thirds,  or  three  fourths,  if  you  had  known  it.  I  am  not 
the  heiress  of  romance." 

"  So  much  the  better  !  "  I  cried.  "  Neither  are  you  the 
lady  of  romance,  '  in  gloss  of  satin  and  glimmer  of  pearls.' " 

"  You  must  hear  the  fact,  John.  My  whole  fortune  is  but 
eighty  thousand  dollars,  which,  in  New  York,  I  believe,  is 
only  considered  to  be  a  decent  escape  from  poverty. 
Having  never  enjoyed  the  possession  of  it,  I  feel  that  it 
scarcely  yet  exists  for  me.  I  should  value  a  tithe  of  it  far 
more,  if  it  were  earned  by  my  own  exertions,  and  this  is 
one  reason  why  1  yield  so  readily  to  your  scornful  inde- 
pendence of  me.  I  can  enter  into  your  feeling,  for  it  is 
also  mine." 

I  was  really  relieved  that  the  disproportion  between  our 
fortunes  was  reduced  by  so  much,  —  though,  for  that  mat- 
ter, eighty  thousand  seemed  as  unattainable  as  eight  hun- 
dred thousand.  All  I  could  aim  at  was  the  system  of  steady, 
moderately  remunerative  labor  upon  which  I  had  entered, 
and  the  prospect  of  gradual  improvement  which  it  helc 
forth.  I  would,  at  least,  not  be  an  idle  pensioner  upon  Isa 
bel's  means.  This  resolution  gave  me  new  vigor,  infused 


494  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

lilfe  into  my  performance  of  mechanical  duties,  and  made 
my  services,  as  I  soon  discovered,  of  increased  value,  —  for 
the  increased  reward  followed. 

Our  parting  was  the  beginning  of  a  correspondence  hi 
which  we  still  drew  closer  to  each  other,  in  the  knowledge 
of  reciprocal  want,  and  the  expression  of  the  deeper  sym- 
pathies born  of  absence.  Our  letters  were  long  and  fre- 
quent, and  then  came,  to  interrupt  them,  the  brief,  delicious 
visits,  when  I  stole  away  for  a  Sabbath  beside  the  blue  wa- 
ter, and  Mrs.  Deering  managed  that  we  should  be  left  alone 
to  the  extreme  limit  which  Conventionality  permitted. 
Thus  the  bright  summer  wore  away,  nor  once  betrayed  the 
promise  of  its  joyous  opening. 

It  was  the  9th  of  September,  I  recollect,  —  for  hi  one 
month,  to  a  day,  Isabel  would  become  sole  mistress  of  her 
fortune,  —  that,  on  going  down  to  the  Wonder  office  at  the 
usual  hour,  I  found  a  large,  awkward-looking  letter  upon 
my  desk.  The  postmark  was  Reading,  and  I  thought  I 
recognized  my  uncle's  cramped,  heavy  hand  in  the  configu- 
ration of  the  words,  —  "  Mr.  John  Godfrey."  I  opened  it 
with  some  curiosity  to  know  the  occasion  of  this  unexpected 
missive,  and  read  as  follows :  — 

"  READING,  Berks  Co.  Penn'a. 
September  the  7th,  185 — . 

"  RESPD.  NEPHEW,  —  I  take  my  Pen  in  hand  to  inform 
you  that  Me  and  your  aunt  Peggy  are  injoying  good  Health 
and  Those  Blessings  which  the  Lord  Vouchsafes  to  us.  It 
is  a  long  Time  since  we  have  heard  anything  of  you,  but 
suppose  you  are  still  ingaged  in  the  same  Occupation  as  at 
first,  and  hence  direct  accordingly,  hoping  these  few  Lines 
may  come  Safely  to  hand. 

"  It  has  been  a  fine  Summer,  for  the  crops.  The  grass 
has  grown  for  the  Cattle  and  the  herb  for  the  Service  of 
man  (Psalms  104,  14,)  and  the  Butter  market  is  well  sup- 
plied. Prices  will  be  coming  down,  but  I  trust  you  have 
Found  that  wealth  is  not  increased  by  price  (Ditto  44, 12,) 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  49fi 

and  that  Riches  profit  not  in  the  day  of  wrath  (P)overbs 
11,  4).  My  business  has  Expanded,  and  I  have  reason  to 
be  Thankful  that  I  have  so  far  escaped  the  Snares  which 
were  laid  for  me  as  in  a  Trap  (Job  18).  Although  I  wa? 
Compassed  about,  Praise  be  to  the  Lord,  I  have  escaped. 

"  And  this  is  the  Reason  why  I  write  to  you  these  few 
lines.  I  might  say  to  you  Judge  not  that  ye  be  not  Judged 
(Matthew  7, 1)  if  I  was  sure  that  your  ears  are  not  closed 
in  Stubbornness.  I  might  Charge  you  as  being  one  that 
looketh  on  outward  Appearance  (Samuel  16,  7)  but  I  will 
not  imitate  your  Behaviour  to  a  man  of  your  own  Kin. 
Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  Evil  thereof,  and  as  there  is 
a  time  for  all  things,  (Eccl.  3)  I  hope  your  time  for  Ac- 
knowledgement has  come.  I  have  waited  for  my  Justifica- 
tion. A  long  Time,  it  may  seem  to  you.  because  you  were 
rash  to  suspect  evil,  but  it  has  Been  longer  to  me,  because 
I  had  to  Bear  your  suspicion.  With  great  wrestlings  have 
I  wrestled,  and  I  have  Prevailed  (Genesis  30,  8).  It  is 
not  good  to  be  Rash,  or  to  speak  out  of  the  Stirrings  up  of 
the  sinful  Heart.  It  has  been  a  sore  Tribulation  to  your 
aunt  Peggy,  though  not  rightfully  to  be  laid  at  My  door. 

"  Their  Snares  have  failed  and  I  am  at  last  Able  to  re- 
alize —  which,  since  the  Road  has  changed,  as  I  suppose 
you  have  seen  by  the  Newspapers,  is  a  proper  punishment, 
showing  that  the  Counsels  of  the  wicked  is  Deceit  (Prov- 
erbs 12,  5).  And  you  will  See,  much  as  you  would  not 
Relieve  it  at  the  time,  that  Sixhundredfold  was  below  the 
Mark,  which  was  all  I  Promised,  but  will  Act  upright,  and 
it  shall  be  even  Shares  to  the  Uttermost  farthing.  I  prayed 
lo  the  Lord  on  my  Bended  knees  that  night,  that  He  would 
make  my  word  Good,  and  let  me  not  be  Humbled,  but  it 
is  more  than  2  years  before  He  would  allow  it  to  come  to 
Pass,  which  I  did  not  Count  upon,  and  it  is  all  the  Better 
for  waiting.  The  new  Survey  was  Made  more  than  a  year 
ago,  but  Purchasers  did  not  depend  on  the  second  change 
antil  there  was  some  Cuttings  and  Bridges.  Besides,  the 


496  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

others  went  about  Crying  it  down,  for  Disappointment  ani 
Spite,  which  had  an  effect  on  the  Market,  and  so  I  would 
uot  Realize  until  the  thing  was  sure.  You  see  now  that  it 
was  not  Necessary  to  suspicion  me  of  acting  dishonest,  and 
to  Breed  up  strife  in  the  household.  Where  Strife  is, 
there  is  confusion  (James  3,  16),  and  you  Magnified  your 
own  opinions  at  the  time,  but  Blessed  is  the  man  that  mak 
eth  the  Lord  his  trust  and  respecteth  not  the  Proud  (Prov- 
erbs 40,  4). 

"  I  write  these  few  Lines  to  inform  you  that  Things  are 
now  fixed,  as  I  said  before,  and  may  be  Put  into  your  own 
hands  whenever  you  like.  I  Remind  you  that  a  Recpt.  in 
full  is  necessary  for  the  Justification  of  my  name,  though 
not  aware  of  Evil  reports,  which  might  have  been  Expected 
after  the  manner  in  which  you  Went  away  from  my  doors. 
Your  aunt  bids  me  say  that  things  may  be  Taken  back  be- 
tween Relations,  and  This  should  not  be  a  matter  too  hard 
for  judgement,  between  blood  and  blood  (Deuteronomy 
17,  8).  Therefore  it  Rests  with  yourself  on  what  footing  we 
should  stand.  I  will  not  bear  Malice  for  past  injustice,  but 
hope  that  you  will  acknowledge  the  lesser  Truth,  and  yet 
be  Led  to  accept  the  Greater. 

"  If  you  come  soon,  Let  me  know  the  day  beforehand 
that  all  things  may  be  Prepared.  Your  aunt  says  the  spare 
bedroom  on  the  second  story,  if  he  will  Take  it,  which  I 
repeat  also  for  my  own  part  —  though  the  House  is  sold, 
by  reason  of  Retiring  from  business,  we  have  not  Moved 
away.  Our  Congregation  has  been  blessed  with  a  great 
Awakening  and  increase  of  members,  and  we  expect  to 
build  a  Large  Church  in  the  spring.  The  town  is  grow- 
ing, houses  go  up  wonderful  fast,  and  Business  improves 
all  the  time.  Himpel  has  prospered,  being  known  as  an 
upright  God-fearing  Man,  and  the  talents  I  leave  in  his 
hands,  Remaining  Silent  Pardner,  will  not  be  tied  up  in  a 
Napkin. 

"  Hoping  these  few  Lines  may  reach  you  Safely,  and 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  497 

find  you  injoying  good  Health,  and  waiting  for  an  answe* 
whether  you  will  come,  no  more  at  Present  from 
"  Your  uncle  to  command, 

"AMOS    WOOLLEY." 

Two  things  were  evident  from  this  somewhat  incoherent 
epistle,  —  that  my  uncle  had  finally  "  realized  "  his  venture 
in  the  coal-land  speculation,  and  was  ready  to  pay  my  share 
of  the  investment ;  and  secondly,  that  he  had  keenly  felt 
the  force  of  my  accusations  and  desired  a  reconciliation. 
The  matter  had  almost  passed  out  of  my  mind  during  the 
eventful  two  years  which  had  elapsed  since  my  last  visit  to 
Reading.  I  had  given  up  my  little  inheritance  as  lost,  and 
never  dreamed  that  it  might  yet  be  restored  to  me.  My 
own  experience,  in  the  mean  time,  disposed  me  to  judge 
more  leniently  of  my  uncle's  unauthorized  use  of  the  money, 

—  especially  now  that  his  scheme  had  succeeded.     Success 
has  a  wonderful  moral  efficacy.     I  could  also  imagine  how 
his  pride  of  righteousness  had  been  wounded  by  my  words, 

—  how  they  would  come  back  to  his  mind  and  pull  him 
down  when  he  would  fain  have  exalted  himself,  and  thus 
become  a  perpetual  thorn  to  his  conscience. 

Moreover,  in  looking  back  to  the  days  of  my  life  in  Read- 
ing, I  was  able  to  read  his  character  more  intelligently. 
I  saw  that  he  was  sincere,  and  that  his  apparent  hypocrisy 
was  simply  the  result  of  narrowness  and  ignorance.  He 
had  not  sufficient  intellect  to  be  liberal,  nor  sufficient  moral 
force  to  be  consistent.  In  most  of  the  acts  of  his  life,  he 
doubtless  supposed  himself  to  be  right,  and  if,  in  this  one 
instance,  he  had  yielded  to  a  strong  temptation,  his  ultimate 
intention  was  honest  I  was  willing  to  concede  that  he 
never  meant  to  defraud  me,  —  nay,  that  he  was  even  un- 
aware of  the  fraudulent  construction  which  might  be  pu1 
upon  his  act 

The  same  day  I  dispatched  the  following  answer :  — 


498  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

u  DEAR  UNCLE,  — 

u  The  news  contained  in  your  letter  of  the  7th  was  quite 
unexpected,  but  none  the  less  welcome,  for  your  sake  as 
well  as  my  own.  While  I  still  think  that  the  disposal  of 
my  little  property  ought  to  have  been  left  to  myself,  I 
cheerfully  acquit  you  of  any  intention  to  do  me  wrong,  and 
to  show  that  I  not  only  bear  no  malice,  but  am  willing  to 
retract  my  hasty  insinuations  against  your  character,  I  \\ill 
accept  your  proffered  hospitality  when  I  visit  Heading 
You  may  expect  me  within  the  next  four  or  five  days. 

u  Reserving  all  further  information  concerning  my  own 
fortunes  until  we  meet,  I  subscribe  myself,  with  an  affec- 
tionate greeting  for  Aunt  Peggy,  your  nephew, 

"JOHN  GODFREY." 

Mr.  Clarendon,  whose  fatherly  interest  in  my  career  was 
renewed,  and  to  whom  I  had  confided  much  of  my  early 
history,  promptly  and  generously  seconded  my  wishes.  I 
remained  only  long  enough  to  write  to  Isabel,  and  to  find 
Bob  Simmons  and  tell  him  that  he  must  spend  his  next 
Sunday  evening  elsewhere  than  in  my  attic  in  Hester 
Street.  Then  I  set  out  for  Reading,  by  way  of  Philadel- 
phia. 

There  was  an  accident  on  the  road,  which  so  delayed  the 
evening  train  that  it  was  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  be- 
fore I  arrived.  Knowing  that  my  uncle  was  already  in  bed, 
I  went  to  the  Mansion  House  and  engaged  quarters  for  the 
night.  The  host  conducted  me  to  a  narrow  room,  which 
was  only  fitted  for  repose  and  privacy  when  the  adjoining 
chambers  happened  to  be  vacant  One  of  these  communi- 
cated with  mine  by  a  door  in  the  partition,  which,  though 
locked,  was  so  shrunk  at  the  top  and  bottom  that  it  uo 
more  kept  out  sound  than  a  sieve.  I  was  both  fatigued 
from  the  journey  and  excited  by  my  visit  to  the  old  place  ; 
so  I  threw  myself  at  once  into  bed,  and  lay  there,  unable 
to  sleep,  meditating  on  the  changes  of  the  past  two  or  three 
years. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  49C' 

Perhaps  half  an  hour  had  gone  by,  when  footsteps  and 
rustling  noises  passed  my  door,  a  key  was  turned,  t-nd  the 
same  noises  entered  the  adjoining  chamber. 

"  Open  the  window  —  I  won't  have  my  dresses  smoked ! '' 
exclaimed  a  voice  which  sent  a  nervous  shock  through  my 
body. 

"  You  did  n't  used  to  be  so  damned  particular,"  was  the 
brutal  answer.  And  now  I  recognized  the  pair. 

"  Well,  —  never  mind  about  this.  I  sha'n't  wear  it  again," 
said  she,  in  a  bitter,  compressed  voice.  "  I  've  told  you  al- 
ready, Mr.  Rand,  that  I  've  always  been  used  to  having 
money  when  I  want  it,  —  and  I  want  it  now.  You  've 
cheated  Pa  out  of  enough  to  keep  me  in  dresses  for  a  life- 
time, and  you  must  make  it  up  to  me" 

u  How  the  devil  am  I  to  get  it  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
short,  savage  laugh. 

"  I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care.  You  and  Mulford  were 
very  free  to  put  everything  into  Old  Woolley's  pocket.  If 
you  will  be  a  fool,  don't  think  that  /  am  going  to  suffer  for 
it!" 

"  I  wish  that  soft-headed  Godfrey  had  run  away  with 
you,  before  I  ever  set  eyes  on  your  confounded  face.  You 
damned  cat !  Who  'd  think,  to  hear  you  purring  before 
folks,  and  rubbing  your  back  affectionately  against  every- 
body's feet,  that  you  could  hiss,  and  spit,  and  scratch  ?  " 

"  I  wish  he  had ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Godfrey  will  be 
Old  Woolley's  heir." 

I  was  first  made  aware  that  I  had  burst  into  a  loud, 
malicious  laugh,  by  the  sudden,  alarmed  silence,  followed 
by  low  whispers,  in  the  next  room.  They  were  themselves 
my  avengers.  Now,  indeed,  I  saw  from  what  a  fate  I  had 
been  mercifully  ?»aved,  and  blessed  the  Providence  which 
aad  dealt  the  blow.  There  was  no  more  audible  ccnversa- 
*aon  between  my  neighbors  that  night.  They  must  have 
discovered  afterwards,  from  my  name  on  the  hotel  register, 
who  it  was  that  overheard  their  amiable  expressions.  1 


500  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

saw  them,  next  morning,  from  the  gentlemen's  end  of  tlie 
breakfast-table,  as  they  came  down  together,  serene  and 
smiling,  she  leaning  affectionately  on  his  arm.  Let  them 
go!  The  world,  no  doubt,  considers  them  a  happy  and 
devoted  pair. 

Nothing  in  the  old  grocery  was  changed  except  Bolty 
who  now  wore  a  clean  shirt  and  a  pen  at  his  ear,  and  kept 
his  mouth  mostly  shut.  He  had  two  younger  assistants  in 
fhe  business,  but  still  reserved  to  himself  the  service  ol 
favorite  customers.  When  he  saw  me  entering  the  dooi 
he  jumped  over  the  counter  with  great  alacrity. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Godfrey ! "  he  cried,  "  this  is  a  surprise.  Not 
but  what  I  had  a  hint  of  it,  when  your  letter  came,  —  by 
yisterday  mornin's  mail.  Glad  to  see  you  in  My  Establish- 
ment, —  one  o'  my  fust  customers,  —  ha,  ha !  Did  you  no- 
tice the  sign  ?  I  guess  not,  —  you  was  n't  lookin'  up." 

I  was  obliged,  perforce,  to  follow  Bolty  out  upon  the 
pavement,  and  notice  the  important  fact  that  "  WOOLLEY 
&  "  was  painted  out,  and  "  LEOPOLD  "  painted  in ;  so  that 
now  the  sign  read,  —  and,  I  was  sure  would  continue  to 
read,  for  a  great  many  years  to  come,  —  "  LEOPOLD  HIM- 
PEL'S  GROCERY  STORE." 

I  determined  that  no  trace  of  what  had  passed  between 
us  should  be  visible  in  my  manner  towards  my  uncle  and 
aunt.  I  even  gave  the  latter  a  kiss  when  we  met,  which 
brought  forth  a  gush  of  genuine  tears.  There  was,  of 
course,  a  mutual  sense  of  embarrassment  at  first,  but  as 
both  parties  did  their  best  to  overcome  it,  we  were  soon 
sitting  together  and  talking  as  pleasantly  and  familiarly  as 
if  our  relations  had  never  been  disturbed. 

When  Aunt  Peggy  had  withdrawn  to  the  kitchen  to  look 
after  her  preparations  for  dinner,  Uncle  Amos  gave  me  a 
long  and  very  circumstantial  history  of  his  speculation. 
There  was  a  great  deal  which  I  could  not  clearly  under« 
stand  at  the  time,  but  which  has  since  then  been  elucidated 
by  my  own  experience  in  matters  of  business. 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  501 

The  original  scheme  had  indeed  offered  a  very  tempting 
prospect  of  success.  Several  large  tracts  of  coal-land  had 
been  purchased  for  a  comparatively  insignificant  sum,  on 
account  of  their  remoteness  from  lines  of  transportation. 
The  plan  of  the  new  railroad  which  was  to  give  them  a 
sudden  and  immense  increase  of  value,  had  not  yet  been 
made  public,  but  the  engineering  scout  employed  by  the 
capitalists  had  made  his  report.  He  was  an  acquaintance 
of  Mulford,  who  had  formerly  been  concerned  with  my 
uncle  in  some  minor  transactions.  This,  however,  was  to 
be  a  grand  strike,  promising  a  sure  fortune  to  each. 

After  the  charter  for  the  road  had  been  obtained,  and 
the  preliminary  surveys  were  made,  the  aforesaid  tracts  of 
land  might  have  been  sold  at  triple  or  quadruple  their  cost 
This,  however,  did  not  satisfy  the  speculators,  whose  appe- 
tites were  only  whetted  by  their  partial  success.  Then  a 
period  of  financial  disturbance  ensued :  some  of  the  capi- 
talists interested  in  the  road  became  embarrassed,  and  the 
work  stopped.  The  coal-lands  fell  again  in  value,  and  the 
prospective  fortunes  dwindled  in  proportion.  Up  to  this 
time  the  lands  had  been  held  as  a  joint-stock  investment, 
my  uncle's  share  being  one  fifth  ;  but  now  there  was  a 
nominal  dissolution  of  partnership,  at  the  instance  of  Mul 
ford,  Bratton,  and  the  Rands,  each  receiving  his  share  of 
the  property,  to  be  held  thenceforth  in  his  own  name,  and 
disposed  of  at  his  own  individual  pleasure.  My  uncle  was 
no  match  for  his  wily  associates.  After  a  series  of  manoeu- 
vres which  I  will  not  mdertake  to  explain,  they  succeeded 
in  foisting  upon  him  a  tract  lying  considerably  aside  from 
the  proposed  line  of  the  road,  and  divided  from  it  (a 
fact  of  which  he  was  not  aware)  by  a  lofty  spur  of  the 
mountains. 

When  he  discovered  the  swindle,  he  gave  himself  up  for 
lost  The  others  held,  it  seemed,  the  only  tracts  likely  to 
be  profitable  at  some  future  day,  while  his,  though  it  might 
be  packed  with  anthracite,  was  valueless,  because  inaccessi 


502  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

We.  He  visited  the  spot,  however,  toiled  over  his  two 
square  miles  of  mountain  and  forest,  and  learned  one  of 
two  circumstances  which  gave  him  a  slight  degree  of  com- 
fort and  encouraged  him  to  wait  In  eighteen  months 
from  that  time  the  first  projected  road  was  still  in  abey- 
ance, while  the  trains  of  the  Delaware  and  Lackawanna 
were  running  within  a  mile  of  his  property  !  There  were 
facilities  for  building,  at  little  cost,  a  short  connecting 
branch :  a  golden  radiance  shone  over  the  useless  wilder- 
ness, and  he  had  finally  "realized,"  for  something  more 
than  tenfold  his  investment 

"  Now,"  said  Uncle  Amos,  wiping  his  fat  forehead  with  a 
bandanna  handkerchief,  —  for  the  narrative  was  long,  intri- 
cate, and  exciting,  —  "  now,  you  can  easy  calculate  what 
your  share  amounts  to.  I  Ve  allowed  you  interest  every 
year,  and  interest  on  that  again,  as  if  it  had  been  regularly 
put  out,  and  you  '11  find  that  it  comes,  altogether,  to  within 
a  fraction  of  twenty  thousand  dollars.  I  '11  say  square 
twenty  thousand,  because  you  can  then  invest  it  in  a  lump : 
there  's  less  temptation  to  split  and  spend.  The  money  's 
in  the  Bank,  and  you  can  have  a  check  for  't  this  minute. 
If  you  Ve  felt  sore  and  distrustful  about  it  all  this  while, 
don't  forget  what  I've  gone  through  with,  that  had  all  the 
risk  and  responsibility." 

"  We  will  think  no  more  of  what  has  gone  by,  uncle,"  I 
said.  "  I  will  take  your  advice.  The  money  shall  be 
invested  as  it  is  :  I  look  on  it  still  as  the  legacy  of  my  father 
and  mother,  and  to  diminish  it  would  seem  to  diminish  the 
blessing  that  comes  with  it" 

"  That 's  right,  John !  I  'm  glad  that  you  have  grown  to 
be  a  man,  and  can  see  things  in  the  true  light  Ah,  if  jou 
would  but  see  all  the  Truth  ! " 

"  I  do,"  said  I.  "  I  know  what  you  mean,  Uncle.  I  have 
learned  my  own  weakness  and  foolishness,  and  the  strength, 
wisdom,  and  mercy  of  God." 

He  seemed  comforted  by  these  words,  if  not  wholly  con- 


JOHN   GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  50S 

vinced  that  my  feet  were  in  the  safe  path.  At  dinner  his 
prayer  was  not  against  "  them  which  walk  in  darkness,"  but 
a  grateful  acknowledgment  for  undeserved  bounties,  in 
which  I  joined  with  a  devout  heart. 

I  completely  won  Aunt  Peggy  by  confiding  to  her  my 
betrothal  and  approaching  marriage.  The  next  day,  before 
leaving  for  my  return  to  new  York,  she  brought  me  a 
parcel  wrapped  in  tissue-paper,  saying,  — 

"  I  want  to  send  something  to  her,  but  I  can't  find  any- 
thing nice  except  this,  which  Aunt  Christina  gave  me  for 
my  weddin'.  It 's  not  the  fashion,  now,  I  know,  but  folks 
says  the  same  things  come  round  every  twenty-five  or 
thirty  years,  and  so  I  expect  this  will  turn  up  again  soon. 
I  hope  she  '11  like  it" 

She  unfolded  the  paper  and  produced  a  tortoise-shell 
comb,  the  top  of  which  was  a  true-lover's-knot,  in  open  fili- 
gree, rising  nearly  six  inches  above  the  teeth.  I  smoth- 
ered my  amusement,  as  best  I  could,  under  profuse  thanks. 
and  went  away  leaving  Aunt  Peggy  proud  of  her  nephew, 


504  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER   XL. 

CONCLUSION. 

THE  story  of  my  fortunes  draws  to  an  end,  —  not  because 
the  years  that  have  since  elapsed  furnish  no  important  rev 
elation  of  life,  no  riper  lessons  for  brain  or  heart,  but 
chiefly  because  the  records  of  repose  interest  us  less  than 
those  of  struggle.  I  have  not  enjoyed,  nor  did  I  anticipate 
the  enjoyment  of,  pure,  uninterrupted  happiness,  but  my 
nature  rests  at  last  on  a  firm  basis  of  love  and  faith,  secure 
from  any  serious  aberrations  of  the  soul  or  the  senses.  I 
know  how  to  endure  trial  without  impatient  protest,  —  to 
encounter  deceit  without  condemning  my  race,  —  to  see. 
evermore,  the  arm  of  Eternal  Justice,  reaching  through 
time  and  meting  out,  in  advance,  the  fitting  equivalent  for 
every  deed.  It  is  the  vibration  of  the  string  which  gives 
forth  the  sound,  and  that  of  my  life  now  hums  but  a  soft, 
domestic  monotone,  audible  to  a  few  ears. 

Yet  there  are  still  some  explanations  to  be  made,  before 
closing  this  narrative  of  the  seven  years  which  renewed 
my  frame,  changing  gristle  into  bone,  and  adding  the  iron 
of  the  man  to  the  soft  blood  of  the  boy. 

The  unexpected  restoration  of  my  inheritance,  so  mar- 
vellously expanded,  necessarily  changed  my  plans  for  the 
future.  After  returning  to  New  York,  I  lost  no  time  in 
visiting  Isabel,  and  in  consulting  with  my  honored  friend. 
Mr.  Clarendon.  The  latter,  although  assuring  me  that  my 
labors  had  become  of  real  value  to  his  paper,  nevertheless 
advised  me  to  give  up  my  situation,  since  I  should  be  now 


JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES.  505 

in  the  icceipt  of  a  better  income,  and  could  devote  a  yeai 
or  two  to  rest  and  study.  I  knew  my  own  deficiencies,  and 
was  anxious  to  supply  them  for  the  sake  of  the  new  life 
which  was  opening.  A  spark  of  ambition  still  burned 
among  the  ashes  of  my  early  dreams.  While  recognizing 
that  I  had  mistaken  enthusiasm  for  power,  and  sentiment 
for  genius,  —  that  my  poetic  sympathy  was  not  sufficient  to 
constitute  the  genuine  poetic  faculty,  —  I  had  nevertheless 
acquired  a  facility  of  expression,  a  tolerable  skill  in  de- 
scription, and  a  knowledge  of  the  resources  of  author-craft, 
which,  in  less  ambitious  ways,  might  serve  me,  and  enable 
me  to  serve  my  fellow-men.  The  appetite  was  upon  me, 
never  to  be  cured.  There  is  more  hope  for  the  man  who 
tastes  wine  than  for  him  who  has  once  tasted  type  and 
printer's  ink.  Though  but  one  in  fifty  feels  the  airy  intox- 
ication of  fame,  while  the  others  drink  themselves  into 
stupidity,  and  then  into  fatuity,  who  is  deterred  by  the  ex- 
ample ? 

My  inheritance  did  me  good  service  in  another  way. 
The  reason  for  my  withdrawal  from  the  Wonder  became 
known,  and  my  friend,  the  reporter  of  the  Avenger,  put  it 
into  the  "  Personal  "  column  of  that  paper,  stating  that  I 
had  fallen  heir  to  an  immense  fortune.  The  article  was 
headed  "An  Author  in  Luckf  and,  of  course,  went  the 
rounds  of  the  other  papers.  I  was  congratulated  by  every- 
body whom  I  had  ever  met,  and  even  Messrs.  Renwick  and 
Blossom,  overlooking  the  ignominy  of  my  flight  from  Mrs. 
De  Peyster's  boarding-house,  left  their  cards  at  Mrs.  Very's 
door.  I  gave  the  black  boy  who  scoured  the  knives  two 
shillings  to  carry  my  cards  to  them  in  return,  and  went  up 
to  Stanton  Street,  to  pass  the  evening  with  Bob  Simmons. 

With  October  Isabel  came  back  to  the  city.  She  had  al- 
ready written  to  her  step-father  and  the  two  associate  trus- 
tees, and  on  the  day  when  she  completed  her  twenty-first 
year  the  papers  representing  her  property  were  placed  in 
her  hands.  Mr.  Floyd,  who  had  always  treated  her  kindly, 


506  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

and  who  had  found  his  house  very  lonely  since  her  depart 
ure,  begged  her  to  return,  even  going  to  the  length  of  of 
fering  to  banish  his  son.  Then  Isabel  quietly  said,  — 

"  I  shall  be  married  to  Mr.  Godfrey  in  two  months,  and 
will  not  dispossess  Mr.  Tracy  Floyd  for  so  short  a  time." 

The  old  man  sighed  wearily.  The  announcement,  of 
course,  was  not  unexpected.  There  was  a  little  affection 
somewhere  among  the  stock-jobbing  interests  which  filled 
his  heart ;  he  had  once  imagined  that  his  step-daughter 
might  become  his  daughter-in-law,  and  keep  a  warm  home 
for  his  old  days.  His  intercourse  with  his  son  consisted 
principally  of  impudent  demands  for  money  on  one  side, 
and  angry  remonstrances  on  the  other.  What  could  he  ex- 
pect ?  He  gave  his  life  to  "Wall  Street,  and  that  stony  di- 
vinity does  not  say,  "  Train  up  your  children."  On  the  con- 
trary, one  of  her  commandments  is,  "  Thou  shalt  give  thy 
sons  cigars  and  thy  daughters  silks,  and  let  them  run,  that 
the  care  of  them  may  not  take  thy  mind  from  stocks." 

As  for  Mr.  Tracy  Floyd,  his  fate  was  already  decided, 
though  we  did  not  know  it  at  the  time.  For  one  so  selfish 
and  shallow-hearted,  his  only  plan  of  life  —  to  be  the  idle, 
elegant  husband  of  an  heiress  —  failed  most  singularly  and 
lamentably.  Miss  Levi  employed  the  magnetism  of  her 
powerful  Oriental  eyes  to  some  purpose,  for  she  trod  his 
plans  under  foot  and  married  him  before  the  summer  was 
over.  I  would  give  much  to  know  the  successive  saps  and 
mines,  the  stealthy  approaches,  and  the  final  onset  by  which 
she  gained  possession  of  the  empty  citadel ;  it  would  be  a 
more  intricate  romance  than  my  own.  She  was  a  Jewess 
with  very  little  money  in  her  own  right,  but  wealthy  con- 
nections. The  latter  were  desirous  of  rising  in  society, 
and  it  was  believed  that  they  allowed  a  moderate  annuity 
to  Mrs.  Floyd,  on  condition  that  the  match  should  be  used 
to  further  their  plans  in  this  respect,  and  that  the  possible 
future  children  should  be  educated  in  their  faith.  I  will 
not  vouch  for  the  truth  of  this  report,  but  the  gossips  of 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.         507 

Gramercy  Park  that  winter  declared  that  the  Floyd  man- 
sion was  frequented  by  numbers  of  persons  with  large 
noses  and  narrow  stripes  of  forehead. 

We  were  married  in  December.  Isabel  wore  the  sap- 
phires I  loved,  but  their  sparkle  could  not  dim  the  sweet; 
tremulous  lustre  of  her  kindred  eyes.  It  was  a  very  quiet 
and  unostentatious  wedding,  followed  by  a  reception  in  Mrs. 
Deering's  rooms.  When  evening  came,  my  wife  and  I  left 
our  friends,  and  went  together,  —  not  on  a  tour  from  hotel 
to  hotel,  with  a  succession  of  flashy  "  Bridal  Chambers  "  at 
our  disposal,  —  but  to  the  dear  little  house  in  Irving  Place 
which  was  now  to  be  our  home.  Yet  we  did  not  go  alone. 
Three  radiant  genii,  with  linked  hands,  walked  before  us, 

—  Peace  to  kindle  the  fire  on  our  domestic  hearth,  and 
Confidence  and  Love  to  light  the  lamps  beside  our  nuptial 
couch. 

Some  weeks  afterwards,  I  received,  one  morning,  the  fol« 
lowing  letter  from  San  Francisco  :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  JOHN,  —  I  know  why  you  have  not  written 
to  me.  In  fact  I  knew,  months  ago,  (through  Deering,) 
what  was  coming,  and  had  conquered  whatever  soreness 
was  left  in  my  heart.  Fortunately  my  will  is  also  strong 
in  a  reflective  sense,  and  I  am,  moreover,  no  child  to  la- 
ment over  an  irretrievable  loss.  I  dare  say  the  future  will 
make  it  up  to  me,  in  some  way,  if  I  wait  long  enough.  At 
any  rate,  you  won't  object,  my  dear  old  fellow,  to  have  me 
say — not  that  I  wish  you  happiness,  for  you  have  it,  but  — 
that  you  deserve  your  double  fortune.  The  other  item  1 
picked  up  from  a  newspaper ;  you  might  have  written  me 
that. 

u  With  this  steamer  there  will  come  a  trifle,  which  I  hope 
may  be  accepted  in  token  of  forgetfulness  and  forgiveness, 

—  though  it  is  Fate,  not  myself,  that  should  be  forgiven. 
There  may  also  come  a  time  —  nay.  I  swear  it  shall  come, 

—  when  I  may  sit  by  your  fireside  and  warm   my  bald 


308  JOHN  GODFREY'S   FORTUNES. 

head,  and  nurse  my  gouty  leg,  and  drink  my  glass  of  Port 
Pray  that  it  may  be  sooner  for  the  sake  of  your  (and  hers, 
now)  "Affectionate  cousin, 

"ALEXANDER    PENBO8E." 

The  "  trifle  "  was  a  superb  India  shawl,  and  I  am  glad 
that  Isabel  likes  to  wear  it  We  have  not  yet  seen  our 
cousin,  for  we  were  absent  from  New  York  when  he  came 
to  the  Atlantic  side,  two  years  afterwards ;  but  we  believe 
in  the  day  when  he  shall  be  an  honored  and  beloved  guest 
under  our  roof.  Till  then,  one  side-rill  of  bliss  is  wanting 
to  the  full  stream  of  our  lives. 

Within  a  year  after  our  marriage,  Mr.  Floyd  met  the 
usual  fate  of  men  of  his  class.  Paralysis  and  softening  of 
the  brain  took  him  away  from  the  hard  pavements  and  the 
granite  steps  he  had  trodden  so  long.  The  mind,  absent 
from  his  vacant  eyes,  no  doubt  still  flitted  about  on  'Change, 
holding  ghostly  scrip  and  restlessly  seeking  phantom  quo- 
tations. It  was  not  with  us  ;  but  we  took  his  body  and 
cared  for  it  a  little  while,  until  the  mechanical  life  ceased. 
Then  reverence  forbade  us  to  wonder  what  occupation  the 
soul  could  find  in  the  world  beyond  stock. 

When  spring  came,  I  took  Isabel  to  the  Cross-Keys,  and 
gave  her  the  first  bud  from  the  little  rose-tree  on  my  moth- 
er's grave.  Kindly  hands  had  kept  away  the  weeds,  and 
the  letters  on  the  head-stone  were  no  less  carefully  cleaned 
from  moss  and  rust  than  those  which  contained  my  boyish 
promise  of  immortality,  —  the  epitaph  on  Becky  Jane  Niles. 
Our  visit  was  a  white  day  in  the  good  Neighbor's  life. 
She  tried  to  call  me  "  Mr.  Godfrey,"  but  the  familiar 
"  Johnny  "  would  come  into  her  mouth,  confusing  her  and 
bringing  the  unwonted  color  into  her  good  old  face,  until 
she  hit  upon  the  satisfactory  expedient  of  addressing  me  as 
u  Sir."  I  don't  believe  any  garment  since  her  wedding- 
dress  gave  her  as  much  pleasure  as  the  black  silk  we  lefl 
behind  us. 


JOIIN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES  509 

Thence  we  went  to  Reading,  where  Isabel  speedily  won 
the  hearts  of  Uncle  and  Aunt  Woolley,  and  so  homeward 
by  way  of  Upper  Samaria.  Our  visit  was  a  great  surprise 
to  Dan  Yule,  who  had  not  heard  a  word  about  me  since  I 
burned  "  Leonora's  Dream "  under  the  willows.  Mother 
Yule  was  dead,  but  Dan  and  his  "  Lavina  "  kept  the  plain, 
cheerful  spirit  of  the  old  home  intact,  and  it  was  a  happy 
day  we  passed  under  their  roof.  A  messenger  was  sent  to 
Susan,  who  came  over  the  hills  with  Ben  and  their  lusty 
baby  to  tea,  and  the  lively  gossip  around  the  fire  in  the 
great  kitchen  chimney-place  scarcely  came  to  an  end.  I 
was  glad  to  hear  that  Verbena  Cuff  was  married.  Then 
first  I  dared  tell  the  story  of  the  lime-kiln. 

And  now,  having  carefully  disposed  of  so  many  of  the 
personages  of  my  history,  after  the  manner  of  an  English 
novelist  if  the  last  century,  my  readers  may  demand  that  I 
should  be  equally  considerate  of  the  remainder.  But  the 
Rands  and  the  Brattons  have  passed  out  of  the  circle  of 
my  knowledge.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  Mortimers 
and  Miss  Tatting.  Mears  has  married  a  wealthy  widow 
and  given  up  art  for  artistic  literature.  (I  betray  no  secret 
when  I  state  that  he  is  the  well-known  "  Anti-Ruskin," 
whose  papers  appear  in  "  The  Beaten  Path.")  Brandagee, 
has,  perhaps,  undergone  the  greatest  transformation  of  all ; 
and  yet,  now  that  I  know  mankind  better,  I  can  see  that 
it  is  in  reality  no  transformation,  but  a  logical  development 
of  his  nature.  Having  scraped  together  a  little  capital,  — 
probably  obtained  by  following  Fiorentino's  method,  —  he 
ventured  into  Wall  Street  one  day,  was  lucky,  followed 
his  luck,  rapidly  became  a  shrewd  and  daring  operator, 
and  is  supposed  to  be  in  prosperous  if  not  brilliant  circum- 
stances. He  lives  at  the  Brevoort  House,  and  spends  his 
money  liberally  —  upon  himself.  He  is  never  known  to 
lend  to  a  needy  Bohemian.  "  Gold,"  he  now  says,  "  is  the 
only  positive  substance."  I  frequently  meet  him,  and  as 
the  remembrance  of  my  vagabond  association  with  him  has 


510  JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES. 

left  no  very  deep  sting,  we  exchange  salutations  and  re- 
marks, —  but  there  is  no  intimacy  between  us,  and  thert 
never  will  be. 

"  But  what  of  Bob  Simmons  ?  And  of  Jane  Berry  ?  " 
the  curious  reader  may  ask.  Shall  I  again  lift  the  veil 
which  I  have  dropped  upon  two  unfortunate  hearts  ?  — 
Rather  let  it  hang,  that  each  one  may  work  out  in  his  own 
way  the  problem  I  have  indicated.  Whether  the  folly  of 
a  day  is  to  be  the  misery  of  a  life,  or,  on  the  other  hand 
a  too  easy  rehabilitation  of  woman's  priceless  purity  shall 
be  allowed  to  lessen  the  honor  of  the  sex,  are  the  questions 
which  my  poor  friends  were  called  upon  to  solve.  Which- 
ever side  we  may  take,  let  us  not  deny  human  pity  to  the 
struggle  through  which  they  must  pass,  before  peace,  in 
either  form,  can  rest  upon  their  lives. 

If  there  is  any  lesson  in  my  story,  I  think  it  is  not  neces- 
sary that  I  should  distinctly  enunciate  it.  In  turning  over 
these  pages,  wherein  a  portion  of  my  life  is  faithfully  re- 
corded, I  see,  not  only  that  I  am  no  model  hero,  but  that 
my  narrative  is  no  model  romance.  The  tragic  element, 
in  externals,  at  least,  is  lacking,  —  but  then  nu'ne  has  been 
no  exceptional  life.  It  only  runs,  with  different  undula- 
tions, between  the  limits  in  which  many  other  lives  are  in- 
closed. Why,  then,  should  I  write  it  ?  Because  the  honesi 
confession  of  a  young  man's  fluctuating  faith,  his  vanity 
and  impatience,  his  struggle  with  temptations  of  the  intel- 
lect and  the  senses,  and  the  workings  of  that  Providence 
which  humbles,  sobers,  and  instructs  him,  can  never  be 
without  interest  and  profit  to  his  fellow-men.  If  another 
reason  is  wanted  I  will  give  it,  and  with  it  a  final,  fleeting 
tableau  of  my  present  life. 

Time,  nearly  a  year  ago.  Scene,  the  little  lawn  in  front 
of  our  cottage  on  Staten  Island.  I  am  sitting  on  the  ve- 
randa, in  an  arm-chair  of  Indian-cane,  with  Jean  Paul's 
"  Titan "  —  a  very  literary  nebula,  by  the  way,  the  fluid 
essence  of  a  hundred  stars  —  in  my  hand.  Isabel,  fullei 


JOHN  GODFREY'S  FORTUNES.  511 

and  rounder  in  her  form,  but  with  the  same  fresh,  cleai 
beauty  in  her  features,  (how  often  I  think  of  Penrose's  ex- 
clamation, —  "  She  is  my  Eos  —  my  Aurora ! ")  sits  neai 
me,  but  her  work  rests  on  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  follow  the 
gambols  of  Charles  Swansford  Godfrey,  whose  locks  of 
golden  auburn  shine  out  from  the  rift  in  a  clump  of  box, 
where  he  is  seeking  to  hide  from  his  little  sister  Barbara. 
It  is  a  charming  picture,  but  I  am  too  restless  to  enjoy  il 
as  a  husband  and  father  ought. 

I  throw  down  "  Titan "  and  pace  up  and  down  the  ve- 
randa with  rapid  strides.  Isabel  looks  towards  me,  and  a 
shade  (think  not  that  another  eye  than  mine  would  notice 
it !)  passes  over  her  face.  I  stop  before  her  chair. 

"  Bell,"  I  say,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  have  tried  hard  to 
give  up  my  literary  ambition,  and  enjoy  this  lazy,  happy 
life  of  ours,  but  the  taint  sticks  in  my  blood.  I  am  restless 
because  my  mind  is  unemployed :  these  occasional  sketches 
and  stories  don't  fill  the  void.  I  want  a  task  which  shall 
require  a  volume.  Can't  you  give  me  a  subject  ? " 

"I  have  been  feeling  the  same  thing  all  along,  John," 
says  she,  "  and  only  waited  for  you  to  speak  of  it.  Don't 
aim  too  high  in  your  first  essay  :  take  that  which  is  nearest 
and  most  familiar.  Why  not  tell  the  story  of  your  own 
life?" 

"  I  will ! "  I  exclaim,  giving  her  a  kiss  as  a  reward  foi 
this  easy  solution  of  the  difficulty. 

And  I  have  done  it 


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